


Puzzle, Cipher, Key

by Deck Divination (astralpath)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient Egypt, Eventual Romance, M/M, Yami no Game | Shadow Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralpath/pseuds/Deck%20Divination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle City tournament is suspended when its host disappears. As Mokuba recruits Yugi and his friends to assist in locating his brother, Seto must come to grips with a strange role and world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Puzzle

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on Fanfiction.net from 7/21/2012 to 9/17/2013. Interestingly, it seems to have been gaining attention of late after a slow start. I have made a good many corrections for this reposting (where was my head?), plus I have greatly revised one chapter (more about that when I post it). 
> 
> Naming: How Yugi/Yami Yugi/Atem and Seto/Set is named depends on the POV. For example, from Seto's POV, Yugi, Yami Yugi, and Atem are all Yugi. When things are more ambiguous, I try to be more descriptive. I go forward in the hope that this works. Please comment/criticize as you find necessary, and thank you for following along! :)
> 
> **_WARNINGS:_**
> 
> 1) You will encounter profanity throughout. There are also instances of violence.
> 
> 2) Be aware that this is not (!) a "fluffy Bakura." This assumes the spirit of the ring is basically as he was conceived in the source. (This seemed to surprise some readers upon the initial posting.)

Mokuba pulled off the wrapping paper and looked at the box inside. There was a picture of a large, shining dragon with a knight in silver armor seated on it as though it was a horse.

“It's a puzzle.”

“A puzzle?”

“The idea is to put all the pieces together, and then you see the picture, Mokuba. It's fun, you'll see.”

Mokuba looked the box over, unsure, and scrutinized his brother's face.

“I'll help.”

Mokuba dropped the box and threw his arms around his brother's neck. He didn't care whether he liked the activity itself or not. If it meant his brother spending time with him, he was all for it. “Thanks, Nii-sama!”

“You're welcome.” Seto smiled warmly, his dark eyes shining. “Shall we start now? Father won't mind if we use the large table.”

“Are you sure he won't mind?”

Seto just smiled and took out his pocket knife to cut the seal on the box. “This is a jigsaw puzzle,” he explained. “All you have to do is put the pieces together to match the picture on the box. But there are more complex puzzles that form three-dimensional objects, or ciphers, or combinations of things …” His eyes became distant and dreamy as he considered the possibilities.

“Nii-sama?”

“Oh, sorry! I was just thinking about things I'd like to do. Let's get started. Why don't you go through all the pieces and find the ones with straight edges? When we find them all we can start looking for ones that fit together. Meanwhile, let's separate the ones that are the same color into piles.”

Mokuba started sorting through the pieces. Then he picked up a piece and said, “What about this piece, Nii-sama?”

Seto looked at the fragment of yellow-gold, then at the box.

“Hn. This piece doesn't even belong in this puzzle. The company must have packed it in the box by mistake.”

“That's weird.” Mokuba took the piece back from Seto and fingered it staring at it curiously. “I wonder what picture it's part of?”

“We'll probably never know,” Seto said. “Some mysteries are virtually impossible to solve. When you don't have the key … or all the pieces …”

“Even for you?” Mokuba looked at Seto incredulously. He thought Seto could figure anything out.

Seto smiled and ruffled Mokuba's hair. “If there's not enough information, not even I can figure it out, Mokuba. Some mysteries are just … mysteries.”

* * *

**Author's notes:**

The start of another story. I hope that you'll enjoy this one.

You might notice that this first little part has nothing and everything to do with the story. I hope you'll see what I mean.

I have written most of the skeleton of this story and just have parts to fill in and polish ... still, it might be a couple of weeks before the story really gets started with chapter 2. Please forgive me for being anxious to start and posting the first chapter. I am finishing up my latest 5D's story which is almost finished and then I'll be able to turn my full attention to working on this one. :)


	2. Missing, Key

A youth with long, thick white-blond hair was among the throngs of visitors who entered the Egyptian exhibit during the second day. He was aware that his friend Yugi had visited with Anzu the previous day—not because his friends had told him about it, but because he made sure to keep a close eye on Yugi at all times. Curious, he had lingered only to note that none other than Kaiba Seto had also turned up, looking none too happy, either. The woman who organized the exhibit had emerged wearing none other than the _sennen_ tauk.

Egypt, Yugi, a _sennen_ item, and a great duelist … it couldn't be a coincidence. The spirit that controlled Bakura surfaced easily and walked into the museum. Boring exhibits of various statuary and burial goods greeted him. _Hah!_ he thought. _Grave-robbing is such a genteel affair now …!_

Eventually he made his way to the main hall. _This …!_ His head throbbed.

Two engraved tablets, covered with hieroglyphs and carvings. One depicted the doorway—the portal through which he'd been summoned along with the _sennen_ items. _Yes …_ The other, the pharaoh, resembling Yugi, his servant, the black magician, fighting a priest who bore more than a passing resemblance to Kaiba Seto, whose monster was clearly Blue-Eyes White Dragon. He stared at the stones for some time.

As he stood staring at the stele, two young women moved in nearby. “Do you see?” said one. “That looks exactly like Kaiba Seto. And that even looks like his Blue Eyes White Dragon. Do you think it's a forgery?”

“Why would they do something so stupidly obvious? Wouldn't it be caught? It has to be a coincidence. Besides, would Kaiba be involved with anything like that?”

“Why would he have to be involved? It could be a publicity stunt. But who knows? Kaiba's a cipher. No one can figure him out. That's why he's so successful in business.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why would he change his father's business from defense to gaming in the first place? He took a huge loss and invested hundreds of millions for no real reason. It makes no sense. And _still_ he turned it into a major triumph. I'll bet he doesn't even understand why he does half of what he does himself.”

“No one understands billionaires … but trust me, I'd like to try!”

The two walked off laughing.

_A cipher …_

_Doesn't understand why he does what he does …_

Of course.

How could he forget?

This priest … had he lost his focus? He'd known that Kaiba resembled that priest … hadn't he? Had he just ignored the fact, shaking it off as unimportant? Thinking Kaiba unimportant?

Maybe it was more significant that he'd thought.

Maybe it was _key_.

* * *

Mokuba walked along with Yugi toward the central square where he was planning to meet up with Jounouchi. Seto had said that he would meet him where Yugi was, so he expected to see him waiting at the square when he got there.

But Seto wasn't there.

“Yugi, you go ahead. I'm going to call KaibaCorp and see what's up.”

“No problem. I'll see if I can find Jounouchi.” Yugi made his way off into the crowd.

He was taking a little bit of a risk letting Yugi walk away, but KaibaCorp HQ would know where Seto was for sure.

Only, the embarrassed response he got was less than reassuring. “I'm sorry, Mokuba-sama, but we can't locate your brother at this moment. He left about 25 minutes ago to rendezvous with the disk signal of Motou Yugi and then we … Frankly Mokuba-sama, we've lost his disk signal. We've dispatched a full security team to interview his bodyguards and do a full investigation. We hope to locate him within the hour, sir.”

“You'd better. If … if he isn't located by then, I'm calling the tournament,” Mokuba said.

“You … what?”

“I'm calling it! Suspended until further notice! It's Nii-sama's tournament and it's not going on without him and that's final! Don't worry, I'll make the announcement. If you need anyone to talk to me for authorization, get them on the line.”

“Yes sir.”

Mokuba found the security team and began running down the few leads that they'd dug up. “The bodyguards told us that there was some sort of creature. It looked like a duel monster, only real. Honestly, it sounds insane, but there are the injuries.”

“Injuries?”

“Puncture wounds and acid burns.”

“What?” Mokuba frowned. “This is serious. I'm not waiting an hour. I'm taking action now. Whoever did this …”

Mokuba made arrangements swiftly and met with a camera team in the square. Simultaneously, all duel disks began beeping an alert, and a holographic message appeared instructing duelists to direct their attention to an important tournament announcement.

Mokuba cleared his throat and faced the cameras. “I have an important announcement for all of the duelists in this tournament. Kaiba Seto, the organizer and host of this tournament is missing. His duel disk is off the network. As official referee of this tournament, I am sorry to inform everyone that it has been suspended until further notice as of now. Any duels currently underway are to be considered draws.”

General cries of both joy and frustration immediately filled the air.

Mai strode up to Mokuba. “What is the meaning of this?! We can't even conclude our duels?! I was about to crush this dude!”

Mokuba spun on her. “Whoever is behind Nii—Seto's disappearance might be dueling right now. To prevent this person from benefiting from their plot, I have to stop all duels immediately. I'm sorry, Mai, I can't make any exceptions. And _you_ , don't even start. I don't want to hear it. You don't even like my brother. He might be in trouble, so don't complain about your selfish needs!” Mokuba couldn't help it. He let it all spill out on Jounouchi, whose angry face had appeared over Mai's shoulder.

Jounouchi's expression softened upon seeing Mokuba's obvious worry and he put his hands up. “Don't look at me,” he said.

Yugi, Anzu, and Honda caught up with them directly. “Can I help?” Yugi asked.

“Actually,” Mokuba said, “I was going to go back and look for you to ask if you would.”

“I don't understand. Kaiba just helped you locate me.”

“It just happened after that when he was coming to meet us. He wanted … he wanted to duel you …” now that he'd done everything that he could think of, it was starting to hit him. A tear ran down his cheek.

“Mokuba …”

“Don't—”

Anzu crouched and pulled Mokuba into a tight hug.

That was it. He hugged her back tightly and started crying inconsolably on her shoulder. “Nii-nii-sama n-never does th-that! He's n-never let anyone t-take him away!”

Yugi allowed the switch to take place. The confidence of his other self would reassure Mokuba that everything would be all right soon.

Yami Yugi felt a familiar momentary vertigo as his consciousness took hold of Yugi's body. “Mokuba, we'll find your brother. I promise you that. We'll get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can.”

It took a few minutes, but Mokuba finally pulled himself together, looking embarrassed and worn. Isono stepped in and suggested that Mokuba get some rest.

“No! How can I even consider it with Nii-sama out there, somewhere?”

“How about this,” Yami Yugi said. “Why doesn't Mokuba come with us, and he can take a nap while we're running down leads? If you want, you can come along.”

Isono looked at Mokuba. It wasn't like he had a choice. “What do you want to do, Mokuba-sama?”

“I'm going with Yugi,” he said simply.

While Mokuba stepped aside with Isono to make arrangements with KaibaCorp, Yami Yugi pulled Anzu aside. “This has really worried Mokuba.”

“He's not used to having his brother out of communication. He hasn't been this broken up since—”

Since Kaiba was catatonic.

Yami Yugi frowned. She didn't want to mention it, but there it was.

“Why are you so anxious to get involved?” Anzu continued. “Do you think Kaiba's disappearance is connected to your search for your memory?”

Yami Yugi didn't say anything, but stepped further away from Mokuba and Isono, looking over his shoulder at them.

“You do think so, don't you?”

“The tablet,” he whispered. “You saw it. You remember.”

“The priest? The one who looked like—”

“Like Kaiba? Yes. And his bodyguards. Their injuries are so bizarre.”

“Like they were attacked by monsters?”

“Yes …”

“It's not your fault, Yugi!”

“Whoever is doing this … the reason why he's doing this is almost certainly connected with my identity and purpose here, so in that sense I have some responsibility. But it doesn't matter, Anzu. Mokuba's our friend.”

“Of course, Yugi, we have to help him!”

* * *

Seto woke slowly, his head throbbing. His neck …

_What was this?_

The situation that he found himself in was entirely wrong. He was collapsed on a hard surface, his chest resting on his knees. He was careful not to stir any more than he already had while he assessed his situation.

… which was incredibly difficult when he was trying to remember where he had last seen Mokuba and whether he was likely to be safe.

He seemed to have been dropped carelessly into a corner on a concrete floor. He felt a little stiff, and the hard floor was painful against his slender posterior. His wrists had been securely tied.

Mokuba … he'd gone to the location where he'd believed Yugi to have been dueling, outside of the tournament system. He suppressed a sigh of relief. If Mokuba was still with Yugi, it was the best possible outcome given his current predicament.

Who had penetrated his security detail so easily …? How …?

And yet … he often liked to have a large buffer because of the freedom it gave him to accomplish things that he wouldn't otherwise be able to do.

But _who_ and _how_ were questions he couldn't answer now. All that was clear about the attack was that he was hit on the back of the neck, given his present physical condition.

The last thing he remembered …

He had left the KaibaCorp building … Mokuba had located Yugi finally …

He was headed to join with Mokuba and …

… and …

He didn't remember reaching his destination. He didn't remember meeting Mokuba.

 _Whatever happens, I will see you again, Mokuba_ , he thought. _Now, how to escape_.

All these thoughts had taken a few seconds, his ears monitoring his surroundings for the slightest hint that his captors were in the room monitoring him. He had to assume that there was at least one there.

He chuckled inwardly. If there wasn't, they were severely underestimating him.

They hadn't even bound his feet.

“You can go ahead and open your eyes, Kaiba. I know you're awake.”

 _Oh well, it was worth a try_. Seto opened his eyes. On the plus side, he now had the opportunity to observe his surroundings. Bright morning light filtered down through skylights into some sort of large warehouse space. Blinking against the glare, he could make out the back-lit form of his captor.

“I know you,” he said. “You're one of Yugi's friends. Only … what happened to your voice?”

“Nothing. I'm not quite the person you think I am. You know how Yugi becomes a slightly different person when he duels? Well, you might say that I become a slightly different person when I kidnap someone.” He laughed as though at some sort of private joke.

Indeed, it was that kid with the white hair. The one who was ordinarily quite shy and polite. A slightly different person, he said. That seemed to be an understatement. “Would you care to tell me why you kidnapped me, or is that a secret?”

“Would you care to hazard a guess?”

“No.”

“OK, fine. You have information that I need. Once you give it to me, you're free to go.”

“Good. What do you want to know?”

The kid smiled. “You know what I want to know,” he said. “Just tell me and you can go.”

Bakura. That was his name. Bakura. Too bad this bastard didn't want to know his own name.

“This is ridiculous,” Seto complained. “Not only do you want to extort information from me, but I have to guess what that information might be?”

“You know what it is.”

“I have an eidetic memory, Bakura. If I knew what it is, don't you think I'd know that I knew what it is?”

“Not necessarily,” he grinned. Seto didn't particularly like the look of the grin. “But I have an answer for that. You like games, don't you Kaiba? We're going to play a little game to jog your memory.”

“I told you—”

“Blah blah, eidetic memory, blah. I heard. There's a layer of memory under that oh-so-famous eidetic memory of yours that you don't even know about, Kaiba- _sama_ ,” he said mockingly. “I want to see if I can give it a little kick-start. I mean, what else are you here for?”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Oh, you will. About that game now. Have you ever played an RPG, Kaiba?”

“No. Why would I? The outcome of the game is almost entirely in the hands of the dungeonmaster—unless they're incompetent … and who wants an incompetent dungeonmaster? Basically, it's a waste of time.”

Of course, it wasn't technically true, Seto had played CGI, computer-based RPGs, but that wasn't exactly the same thing, was it?

“Not for me,” said Bakura.

“Apparently you like to play god,” said Seto dismissively.

Bakura shrugged, then pulled something out from under his shirt, a golden item that bore some superficial resemblance to Yugi's pyramidal pendant. There was something …

Then whatever it was, the dark aura, extending from that thing, that pendant around Bakura's neck, began to surround them. It began to fill the room. The world.

Then, as Seto began to lose consciousness, he heard Bakura's voice.

“I _am_ God.”

**Author's notes:**

_It looked like a duel monster_ : Based on possessed!Bakura's ability to call out monsters in the anime.

See the notes at the beginning of the story for info about how Yugi/Yami Yugi/Atem's name is handled. (Juggle, lalala ...)

Couple of acronyms, for those who'd like the spell-out:

RPG: Role Playing Game

CGI: Computer Graphics Interface


	3. Feeling the Part

_What fever dream is this?_

“Set, are you quite all right? That was quite a fall you took—”

“Set?” he repeated, gradually regaining consciousness. He felt dazed, his head wracked with pain, not at all himself. What was this place? The atmosphere was suffocatingly arid with the sun beating down relentlessly. He realized that he was sprawled over a hot stone surface and … his body was embarrassingly bare.

Struggling to rise from this undignified position to a seated one on the stone surface he'd fallen on, he realized he was barely dressed at all.

_What is this?!_

He seemed to be wearing some sort of … kilt … and—

_That bastard!_

“Set …?”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. He attempted to focus his energies on its sound. … But Set? Surely she meant Seto … and why was she being so damnably familiar? He struggled to gain sufficient faculties to stand unsteadily. At the same time, he looked down at himself. His skin was much, much darker, a rich bronzed hue, and he might be slightly younger, possibly up to a year.

_What sort of mind games was that SOB playing?_ Seto gritted his teeth. Was this a ploy to set him off-balance? He wouldn't let it work.

Had this guy access to resources that Seto had been unaware of? Even if he'd gotten his hands on Seto's VR pods, he'd still need programming resources. … Some enemy, perhaps?

Was what this guy was looking for so valuable as that?

Seto vowed to stay completely on guard at all times.

“… down?” the girl before him asked in a very concerned voice.

“I beg your pardon?” Seto asked. Again, he was completely taken aback as he realized that they both had spoken a language that he didn't understand. Strike that. It was a language he shouldn't understand but somehow did.

As Seto looked at his companion more closely, he realized that he was with Ishizu Ishtar … or someone very like her … only her name is properly … Isis, in this tongue.

“I said that I was sorry, Set, I didn't intend to injure you,” she said diffidently, as though she expected some sort of reprimand, “but you did ask me to come at you with all I had.”

“I … then you did the right thing, Isis. I'm sure I'm fine,” he said mechanically.

“You seem disoriented.”

“Give me a few minutes.”

“I think I should call the physician.”

“I'm certain he has better things to do. I'm sure I'll be all right in a few minutes.”

Isis looked at him as though she expected him to say that even if he was dying. “High Priest Akhenaden would be quite angry with me if he learned that you had been injured and the physician had not been called. So would the Prince.”

_Prince?_

Was that the character that Bakura had set up for himself?

He realized that Isis was still speaking. “… be enough training for today at any rate.”

“Very well, if you insist.” He allowed himself to be eased into a sitting position against the wall.

“Good. You shouldn't move if you've hit your head. I'll be back directly.”

Isis left Seto with his thoughts. Seto decided that he might as well go along with this. As long as the physician didn't insist on knocking him out … but that wouldn't fit in well with Bakura's plans, would it?

Bakura thought Seto had some sort of information. Seto had to figure out what, exactly, he was looking for.

And somehow get out without Bakura finding out about it.

Considering he had absolutely no information about the situation, Seto decided that he was in a tricky pickle indeed.

The worst part was that he knew that Mokuba wouldn't sit still, wherever he was. And if this guy had the sort of resources to put him in this sort of VR nightmare, what might he be able to do to Mokuba if he caught him on some sort of rescue mission?

Seto couldn't waste time worrying about that.

There was nothing he could do about it until he was free of this VR pipe dream. The sooner he won this stupid game, the sooner he could escape and find his brother.

But he couldn't help thinking about Mokuba and what he would probably do.

Mokuba would probably try to enlist Yugi to help him. The thought was annoying, but reassuring. Seto sighed. As long as he couldn't be there personally, he felt better when he pictured Mokuba in the company of his rival. As capable as his brother could be, he was too vulnerable on his own.

“What are you doing leaning against a wall here like that? Aren't you supposed to be training?” The voice, authoritative and accusatory, came from an older man that he didn't recognize.

Seto decided to take a cautious tack. This personage obviously thought he was important. “Sir, I was knocked unconscious during training and Isis is bringing the physician.”

The man became suddenly concerned and knelt next to Seto. As he leaned in, the hood of his white robe fell back a little and a flash of gold caught Seto's eye.

_What …!_

The man's eye had been replaced by a golden orb decorated with a wadjet eye. The worst thing about it, though, was that Seto was certain that the man could see him through that weird eye of his.

Seto unconsciously pulled back a little at the sight of the thing, but the man had laid his hands on Seto's head and was looking into his eyes with solicitude. “Don't move,” he said. “I'm not going to read your thoughts. I'm just examining you.”

_Read my thoughts? What the hell?_

He was trying his mightiest not to allow his expression to change, but it must have faltered at least subtly because the man chuckled indulgently. “I know boys your age like their secrets …”

“I— _what!_ ” he sputtered indignantly.

Of course, in the old geezer's mind, Seto's reaction had only served to confirm what he was thinking. The man continued to examine the now-blushing boy with a twinkle in his human eye.

Seto was quite relieved when Isis reappeared with the physician. “High Priest Akhenaden! I see you've found us.”

“Yes. Thank you for summoning the physician. I want Set fully checked over. I think he's all right, but I want a professional opinion.”

So this is Priest Akhenaden, Seto thought, making a mental note of it. There is some sort of relationship between my character and his, certainly.

As Seto allowed the physician to examine him, he considered Akhenaden's actions. He was very personal toward him, to be sure. There was something going on …

Seto frowned. This was one of the reasons why he didn't like RPGs and didn't like playing them. They were highly _social_ games and he was distinctly _not_ a social person. He didn't involve himself in social gatherings or attempt to interpret people's relationships with each other. He was aware that this sort of skill was supposed to be extremely beneficial in business, but he didn't care. Business dealings were best laid out in black and white and signed to. You abided by your agreements and that was that.

Looking at two people and guessing what they meant to each other? That was for sideshows and gossips, not for serious-minded people who wanted to get things done.

But here he was, forced into an RPG, and now he had to figure out _characters_ … even his own. It was maddening.

The physician, who had been feeling out Seto's head intensively, finally ceased and announced, “His skull has not been fractured. You are lucky, young man. But I believe that you might have a concussion. Do you feel in any way disoriented?”

_Disoriented? I don't know anything about this place, that's all._ But would it be wise to admit it?

Seto decided to take a cautious course. “Yes, a little,” he admitted.

“I think it would be best if Set took a break from training for the next few days.”

Akhenaden looked a little anxious. “A few days? But—”

“I realize that he is important to Egypt's future, but think how our future would suffer if we lost him entirely.”

_Training? Egypt's future? What the …?_

Akhenaden blanched visibly and relented. “Very well. However, I believe that it would be a good idea for you to attend the banquet tonight in any case. That won't be very taxing.”

“Are you sure?” asked Isis. She didn't sound sure at all.

However, the physician voiced no objections, turning to Seto.

“Hn,” he said noncommitally. He had attended enough functions for Gozaburo, rain or shine, in sickness and in health, to know that he could breeze through no matter what. He certainly wouldn't be the center of attention at this function, whereas Gozaburo often put him on display as the heir apparent to the Kaiba fortune … whether he had to earn the right to it or not.

“Very good,” said Akhenaden. “Come with me. Your new clothing for the occasion is finished. The tailors can make sure that it fits correctly and then we can go directly there.”

Seto blinked and followed the old man. This wasn't going to give him much time to adjust.

* * *

Not long thereafter, Akhenaden led the newly arrayed Seto into a large dining hall, where he deposited him at a table with a number of other boys roughly in his age group, plus Isis. Seto attempted to look sure of himself, but Akhenaden must have noticed something because he murmured, “Please try to gather your wits, Set,” before he left for a table near the head of the hall.

“Ah, Set, we were sorry to hear of your unfortunate accident today,” said a tallish young man who was at least a few years older than Seto's apparent age.

“Mahad, please. When did you care about Set's health?” said a heavily tattooed youth.

“I care about all those who serve the Pharaoh, Shada.”

Seto paid little heed to what these people were saying, but attended to their names. Again, he was thankful for his memory.

“Please,” said Isis. “Set is recovering. Besides, we don't want to be seen squabbling on an occasion such as this, do we Karim?”

A well-built young man smiled at her and said, “I'd rather not weigh in on the argument, but I'll agree with that sentiment at least. Any quarrels should wait until after dinner.”

At least the introductions were over. Now who were these people and what exactly was he training for, anyway?

Discreetly, he looked around the room at the crowd. It seemed to be wealthy nobility and foreign dignitaries … ancient Egyptian style. He and his companions were sitting to the side and back a bit, as befitted their station as trainees for positions as some sort of trumped-up servant. Akhenaden—who apparently already was one such trumped-up servant, was sitting with five other people who were decked out with golden objects similar to that weird eye of his. Each object was different, and most were decorated with that same wadjet eye. There was a tauk, ring-shaped pendant, scales, ankh, and a scepter-like rod.

_That rod …_

There was something about it that he didn't like. But he dared not dwell on it, for his companions were continuing their conversation.

“… begin to train with the _sennen_ items. We're to become Guardians within the next few months. Don't you think that it is about time?”

Mahad looked thoughtful. “Perhaps, but the _sennen_ items contain extremely powerful magic. Such magic is always dangerous, and likely to be very dark as well. What little exposure I've had to the items has led me to believe that the magic of these items is very dark indeed.”

Mahad looked at Seto piercingly as though expecting a retort. When none came, Shada said, “If we are to wield these items, we need to expose ourselves sooner or later. We've all been training for this for many years.”

“Except for Set. He's only been with us for the last two, three years.”

Seto felt the gaze of the group shift to him, expecting him to say something. He said, “Are you saying that I don't have the ability?”

Mahad looked back at him, hard, and said, finally, “No. But you must remember to use caution in handling such dangerous items. They aren't the same as a sword.”

“Oh, and you're saying that a sword isn't dangerous to handle?”

“No. I'm saying that compared to a _sennen_ item, a sword is like a feather.”

“Then perhaps it's a good thing I've trained myself to handle a sword like a scalpel.”

The group chuckled at that.

_Sennen_ items? Seto suppressed an urge to glance back toward the old men at the table with Akhenaden. _That must be what those things are. Those people are getting too old and they're going to foist them on us_.

“At any rate, we must be tested. It must be confirmed whether the expected items will accept us. Otherwise, we'll have to change training regimens or some of us might fail altogether,” said Shada.

“It's unlikely,” said Isis. “After all, we were selected as candidates with the aid of the _sennen_ items in the first place.”

“That in itself is suspect,” said Mahad. “Because the items have dark magic within them, those who are compatible with the items must, therefore, have some capacity for darkness—”

“Don't we _all_ have _some_ capacity for darkness—?” interjected Isis.

“—We must therefore be forever vigilant in assuring that darkness does not influence our actions.”

“Our actions must support Egypt. That's what I'm interested in,” said Seto. He wasn't quite sure why he said it, but he was positive that it was what his character should say.

Which frustrated him.

But he didn't have long to consider that because there was a fanfare from the orchestra and a man at the table with Akhenaden stood up and walked to the center of the head of the room.

_He—_

The man looked amazingly like Yugi's grandfather.

“The royal family!”

At once, everyone got up and then prostrated themselves on the floor before the entering royalty. Seto followed suit, biting back his displeasure.

_Kowtow? I?_

With gritted teeth, he vowed to make Bakura pay for each and every indignity.

As Seto got up off his knees, he glanced toward the dais where the royal family was dining and tried to suppress a double-take.

_Yugi?_

Yugi was the prince, the heir apparent?

Did Bakura think all this was some sort of joke? Or maybe he somehow overheard that ridiculous conversation with Ishizu? No, to create all this so quickly …

Not only was Yugi a prince, his puzzle was there too, only the pharaoh was wearing it around his neck.

Seto's head began to throb painfully.

The pharaoh bade everyone seat themselves and began to announce his thanks for everyone's efforts during the past year in fortifying Egypt's defenses.

Seto sat and took several swallows of wine.

The pharaoh wrapped his remarks, then asked Shimon (this was apparently the name of the man with the uncanny resemblance to Yugi's grandfather) to make further introductions.

“We have a foreign dignitary in our midst tonight,” announced Shimon. “May I have the pleasure of introducing the ambassador from Assyria and his son, Bakura?”

_Finally_ , Seto thought. _He had to be around here somewhere messing things up. I wonder what his plan is?_

Bakura raked his eyes over the palace crowd hungrily, as though sizing them up. He was led by his father to the royal table, where he was seated next to the prince. Bakura turned to Yugi and chatted him up, smiling shamelessly, almost leering.

Seto thought he was going to be sick.

“Set?”

This Yugi might be just a character in a game, but it still turned his stomach to see him treated with such utter disrespect.

“Set? Your dinner.” It was Shada, looking very helpful and concerned. Yes … he was … the one that they said was in line for the Key.

“Yes, of course.” He scowled at it. How was he going to be able to eat it? He wasn't hungry in the least.

“Are you all right?” asked Isis. “You did hit your head. That can affect your appetite. It could be a sign of something serious.”

“I … I'm not hungry, but I don't think it's serious,” he said, stealing a glance back toward the royal table. The two boys were chatting together and laughing now. Seto felt frustrated, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The initiates thankfully turned to a subject other than the state of his health. “What do you know about the Assyrian ambassador?” asked Isis.

“I know that he's here to negotiate a trade agreement, among other things,” said Mahad.

Seto looked at his plate again and tried a bite of something that looked inoffensive, vegetables and bread. Feeling eyes upon him, he looked up to see Bakura staring at him openly. His stomach souring further, he dropped his bread.

“If you don't mind, I think I should retire.”

The other initiates made general sounds of sympathy and farewell as Set arose and made his way out of the banquet hall. He hoped that his departure wasn't considered a tremendous breach of decorum.

As he stood outside the hall breathing a sigh of relief, he realized that he had absolutely no idea where his room was.

“Set … I know we haven't been on the best of terms …”

A boy a few years older than he stood before him a little diffidently. Seto's brow furrowed slightly. “Mahad,” he said, remembering the name. There it was again. The stupidity of background and relationships that seemed to be so important with this sort of thing. “Forget it,” he said bluntly. “Say what you want to say.”

The boy began walking off in the direction of what Seto hoped was the direction of his quarters and said, “I realize that I've been openly critical of you, Set. I accused you of using the position of High Priest for your own self-aggrandizement.”

“We aren't even—”

“Yes, even before we've attained the positions. But, today, after discovering from Isis how you were injured …” Mahad paused as if trying to find the appropriate words. “I'm just trying to say that I'm sorry, Set. I realize now that you're trying to become as strong as possible to do your duty … and you want the rest of us to live up to our potential as well. It's just …” he huffed out a short laugh, “we're not the same as you, Set. You have so much confidence that you're willing to take risks that we … we just … can't.”

Seto snorted. “Can't, or won't?”

Mahad smiled in that self-depreciating way and repeated, “Can't. Sometimes I wonder if you were meant to be a Guardian, Set.”

“If I'm not, then tell me what I was meant to be.”

Mahad didn't answer but stopped, standing with an expectant air. Seto realized that they must have arrived at his quarters and watched Mahad's eyes carefully as he entered to detect any sign that he might be incorrect.

“Set … take this,” warm hands unexpected clasped one of his as Mahad slipped him a packet of folded papyrus.

“What …?”

“This should take care of your illness. It should help you recover and ease your headaches and nausea.”

“Thank you.”

Seto sat down and considered the conversation. He supposed that this Set character was supposed to be some sort of competitive, aggressive, know-it-all. Well … good. He could just be himself, which was what he was planning on doing anyway. Whatever this was, he wasn't going to just play along.

Didn't he want to win this game?

The problem was, he hadn't agreed to play this stupid game, it wasn't a game he wanted to play and …

Yes, he wanted to win.

He always wanted to win.

But there were more ways of winning than just playing along.

If he could just hold out, stay in the game long enough, he could outlast him long enough for …

… and how he hated to admit it …

… his _friends_ to arrive. Mokuba. And Yugi. Because with Seto missing, there was no question that Mokuba would enlist Yugi's help.

But for now, he was on his own and his head was splitting.

Seto sighed and began looking around the room. It didn't take long. The place was small and Spartan, containing little more than a cot, table and bench. There were a couple of parchment scrolls on the table along with writing supplies and a pitcher, bowl, and cup.

Seto poured himself a cup of water and silently hoped that the medicine Mahad had given him was trustworthy. He unfolded the packet and gave the contents an experimental sniff.

_Execrable. Figures._

Acting quickly, he poured the dose into the back of his throat followed by the water, then gulped. Spluttering a little, he followed it with more water until he was satisfied that the medication wouldn't end up on the stone floor.

His efforts were met with amused laughter. Seto looked up.

“Yu—Your highness!” Seto said. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

He remembered himself and dropped to the floor, only to have Yugi motion to him to arise.

“I was concerned. All of you are days away from earning your _sennen_ items and something like this happens?” He smiled. Now, seeing Yugi close-up for the first time, it was now clear that there was a clear difference between their ages. This game version of Yugi was definitely younger that he, perhaps as much as two years. “Did Mahad give you one of his cures?”

“How did you know?”

“Because you looked like you were about to vomit. They work though. I'm glad he came with you.” Yugi looked serious. “I …”

“My Prince?”

“I think that I have been neglectful. I've been training with Mahad in magic for a long time now, but—”

“Yes, my Prince? This has nothing to do with the rest of us. We are not mages, the only magic we are expected to handle is that associated with the item we wield, isn't that correct?”

“Yes, but we will all be working together, and I will be wielding a _sennen_ item as well. I know Mahad very well, but I don't know the rest of my Guardians well at all … I don't even know Akhenaden all that well, and he's my uncle.”

Seto stared at him, his eyes widening. He couldn't help it. The unguarded sentiment expressed was all too familiar. And in that moment, the prince caught that connection in his eyes.

“You don't remember anything, do you?” he said.

**Author's notes:**

Re-posting note: Wow, even as I do the final read-through, more little fixes and revisions than I anticipated.

A general note about the setting: I'll admit up front that I'm too lazy (and my time is too restricted ... unless you want to wait months!) to do the research to create an accurate depiction of ancient Egypt, so don't expect accuracy! It's just a product of my fevered imagination. (It's not as though _sennen_ items are commonplace ...)

_some sort of … kilt_ : The male initiates are all wearing the basic dress depicted in Egyptian art (bare upper body/simple kilt) for training. Makes sense to me!

_VR_ : virtual reality, like Noah's virtual world.

_a few minutes_ : I realize this is probably an anachronism; I didn't bother looking up how the ancient Egyptians measured time. I hope you'll forgive me!

_his friends_ : Yes, Seto doesn't really like to think of Yugi as a friend, but in this case, he and Mokuba would certainly qualify, so ...

_Yu—Your highness_ : Of course, Seto would be covering in ancient Egyptian somehow, consider this a translation. ;)


	4. Holding Out

“I know Mahad very well, but I don’t know the rest of my Guardians well at all … I don’t even know Akhenaden all that well, and he’s my uncle.”

Seto stared at him, his eyes widening. He couldn’t help it. The unguarded sentiment expressed was all too familiar. And in that moment, the prince caught that connection in his eyes.

“You don’t remember anything, do you?” he said.

And, with that, Seto couldn’t help thinking that this was the sort of opportunity that gameplay would set up to advance the character’s position … and he didn’t like it. This was not at all the sort of game that he played. He was at a severe disadvantage. This Bakura wanted something, and he had no idea what it could be.

Still, whatever differences there were between these characters and the people they resembled, there were certain similarities, resonances with his own life. Seto realized that Bakura could well have built these similarities into his characters as some sort of subtle trap, but even so, Seto had to proceed on some sort of basis. And proceeding on the basis that Yugi was as good at this sort of thing as anyone he’d ever known was as good a basis as any.

He had to trust someone.

“No, my Prince. Since the … accident, I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember this place, or the people, or my village.” Seto paused, trying to think of the way this would make sense. “I think that … there might be a sinister intent behind this. Perhaps you think this a foolish fantasy.”

Yugi looked at him, a little surprised, but quite serious. “Not at all, but you are usually so … resistant … to things you think are ’fantastical.’ Please.”

“Very well. I hesitate to speak of this at all, because, well, frankly, because I feel strongly that all our conversations may be monitored.”

Yugi stared at him for a moment and then seemed to comprehend. “Magically, you mean.”

“Yes.” Seto didn’t like to speak so euphemistically, but to these people, computer monitoring might as well be magic. He waited while Yugi absorbed that information.

“Then we must be circumspect, but we cannot allow that to paralyze us.”

“You believe me.”

“Of course I believe you, Set.”

“But, as I understand it, you don’t know me well.”

“I know you well enough … but, more than ever, I regret that I didn’t make the effort to know the priest initiates better. Tell me, what makes you believe these things?”

“If you insist. The memories I do have are …” he paused, trying to compose his answer, “of a life quite different from this one.”

“Tell me.”

“It is of no consequence. What this person wants has nothing to do with that—”

“Then perhaps it is all an illusion, something meant to confuse or tempt you. There must be some purpose to it.”

“Perhaps, but I think it does no good to go into it now.”

“Then what does this sorcerer want, and why is he focused on _you_?”

“Frankly, I don’t know. He seems to think I know something, some information. I hold, if you will, the key piece to some puzzle that he desperately wants to solve.”

“And he shouldn’t solve it.”

“No. I don’t like being coerced. But …” There was a feeling, a growing sense, somewhere deep inside him. It had been … Yes, it had been the source of the nausea that had swept through him upon seeing Bakura with Yugi. The potential loss of something a lot more serious than his pride.

As ridiculous as that seemed.

Seto heard himself blurting out, “Be careful with that Bakura, he’s—” He caught himself too late. How had he allowed himself to speak without thinking?

“The son of the emissary from Assyria? Surely he’s as harmless. Forward, maybe, but …” Seeing Seto’s expression, Yugi tapered off.

“Pay close attention next time that you speak with him.”

Yugi looked at Seto very seriously for a long moment, then said, “There was something. He … he paid more attention to the priests and initiates than was usual. I attributed it to curiosity and … I apologize for this, Set, but an interest of an immodest nature. He is—to say the least—forward and presumptuous.”

Again, despite the fact that he took some solace in the knowledge that Mokuba was not taking part in his travails for once, Seto felt his anger rising. He felt an unaccountable rage at the idea that his rival had to spend time in the company of such a creature with few to defend him—and none that knew the true nature of his adversary. He could not understand his feelings—this was simply a simulation of his rival … It must simply be the fact that the man was being treated with such utter disrespect. “My Prince, I—” he began.

“I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. You’re not to guard or protect me in any way. I’m going to behave completely normally. If this Bakura leaves me alone, fine. If he seeks me out, even better. We might learn what he wants from you.”

“Hn.”

“Meanwhile, there is one other thing I mean to ask you. Why did you confide in me and not in Akhenaden? He is your mentor. Surely you’ve been told that much. Do you not trust that relationship?”

“I have been informed, but …” He couldn’t shake that impression, that association … there was something deep inside that warned him off instinctively. “I … can’t. I don’t even want to talk to him.”

“That’s so strange. Up until your injury, I would have said you relationship was one of the deepest trust.”

“It is?”

“He treats you like his son.”

“His … son …” Seto’s face twisted. Gozaburo’s son … He didn’t want to be any man’s son.

“Is that so …” Yugi reached forward in concerned surprise, Seto flinching away, evading his fingertips. “I would have thought—”

“An orphan—like me—would—”

“Is that so bad, to gain standing in the world? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I …” What did he want? He wanted to see Mokuba again. To see Mokuba smiling, saying “I knew you’d get away, Nii-sama!” And then Mokuba would hug him tightly, and Seto would pretend he didn’t care, only …

He was a total fraud. He loved it when Mokuba hugged him.

Looking back at the expectant prince, he said, “I suppose so.”

Yugi said, “You don’t sound convinced.”

Seto said nothing.

“Nevertheless,” Yugi continued, “You must tell Akhenaden that you’ve lost your memory. It’s of paramount importance. I trust your instincts. High Priest Akhenaden may have fallen under an evil influence. If so, you must tell him the truth before he becomes suspicious and scans you with his _sennen_ eye.”

_I’m not going to read your thoughts. I’m just examining you._

That golden object where his eye should have been.

Seto suppressed a shiver.

Looking up at Yugi, Seto again detected a trace of concern in the boy.

“You need rest. That powder should have started to act well before now and it has a soporific effect. Please.”

Seto began to protest, but Yugi pushed his chest softly until Seto relented and lay back onto the cot.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling off Seto’s sandals.

“I … my headache has eased … a little,” he allowed, noting that the pounding had indeed subsided to a dull ache.

“I will speak to you later about a plan—I hope to have formulated one.”

But Yugi’s voice was fading out. Whatever Mahad had given Seto was beginning to hit with full force and sleep was pushing in irresistibly. He embraced it at last, fighting its call no more.

* * *

In the plaza of Domino, Mokuba gathered with his security team and Yugi and his friends. Yugi was still showing his other self.

“Have you heard _anything?_ ” demanded Mokuba over his comm device. “If you hear anything, any promising leads, contact me right away.”

“Nothing?”

“No ransom demands, nothing. Yugi, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to keep trying, that’s all.”

“Would you like help? I have a car,” offered Mai.

“Yeah,” offered Jounouchi, “I know I haven’t been on the best of terms with, em, your brother, but I want to help. I can look with Mai and we can cover more ground that way.”

“We have transportation,” said Mokuba, “but if you could help us track down leads, that would help. You know the duelists better and that might be what we need. Thanks, Mai. Jounouchi.”

“Great. We’ll get started talking to people right away.”

As the two moved off into the milling crowd, Yugi looked at Mokuba. Seto had always held himself apart. He didn’t know the duelists—not really. He was respected, but not particularly loved, except in the manner of a distant idol. Kaiba was unreachable. As much as he loved him, even Mokuba idolized him.

Mokuba looked at Yugi anxiously. “Where do we begin?” he asked.

“I guess the best place to start is where you last heard from him or had his confirmed whereabouts.”

“That would be here,” said Isono, indicating an area on the square next to a fountain. “His team lost him in a particularly heavy crowd.”

“This is where Seto was going to meet up with me,” said Mokuba. “We were going to meet and he was going to challenge you …” Mokuba was dangerously close to tears again at the thought of his brother dueling.

“We will have that duel, but first things first. How could—”

“His disk transponder must have been disabled,” said Mokuba. “All disks have transponders that communicate all relevant data to HQ—location, and full duel data.”

“This fountain, you say,” the spirit said, walking over to it. He began to examine the area thoroughly.

“If he could’ve, Nii-sama would have left me a message or clue.” Mokuba looked in and around the large structure hopefully. Suddenly, he cried out in dismay, picking up a small silver object. He handed it to Isono.

“The young master’s comm device?” It was scuffed and damaged.

“We couldn’t use that to locate him, either,” Mokuba said sadly.

Anzu hurried to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, your brother’s strong.”

Yugi crouched, frowning slightly. There was something electronic, crushed, near a shrubbery planting. “What’s this?”

Mokuba hurried over. “It looks like—” he turned it over. “Yes, it’s one of our transponders. “it must have been pried loose and crushed. Just as we suspected.”

“Then whoever did this knows enough to disable the transponder. He knows that the disks are being tracked.”

“Everyone in the tournament knows that the duels are monitored.” Mokuba said, frustrated. “This doesn’t get us much further.”

“It tells us a little. It tells us that the guy who took Kaiba isn’t stupid … but he took Kaiba. Doesn’t that mean he must be stupid?” Yugi sighed. “It looks like Kaiba must have been disabled and removed. Otherwise, he would have been able to call for help.”

Mokuba climbed up onto the fountain and looked around. “He could have gone anywhere in the city from here. Nii-sama chose this location because it’s open and central. There’s a lot of media here and room for dueling.”

“But also a lot of room for maneuver and escape. Maybe someone saw something.”

“I’ll have Isono send out a team to canvass. A promise of reward could turn up something.”

“You should arrange to appear on the morning news. We’ve already announced that he’s missing, so there’s no question of keeping this quiet. We might as well take full advantage of the situation and ask for help.”

“There are enough people who buy our products. You’d think they wouldn’t mind helping us out if they can,” said Mokuba.

“Of course they would,” said Anzu. She glanced toward the spirit of the puzzle, giving him a penetrating look. “What about your idea?”

“Then it’s likely the suspect has gone underground. It’s either the guy who’s behind the Rare Hunters or—”

“Bakura! You said you saw Bakura when you were injured, right?”

“Yes, and if his dark side has gotten involved in this—”

“Kaiba could be in real trouble. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

“He can take care of himself.”

“He’s at a huge disadvantage against this kind of force, though. Remember Pegasus?”

“Of course I do. That’s why I want to hurry,” he said. “But we must have faith in Kaiba.”

* * *

Seto awoke to the sensation of bright sunlight penetrating his eyelids.

He groaned.

Apparently, whatever this was, it had not concluded.

He stood and groaned again. How was he supposed to dress without showering?

Muttering under his breath, he approached the pitcher, poured fresh water into the bowl, divested himself of his clothing and scrubbed himself thoroughly from head to foot. Locating fresh clothing—and swearing at its scantiness—he dressed himself, then poked his head into the corridor. How was he supposed to find his way through the day?

At least he was given a few days off from whatever training regimen he was supposed to be following.

A girl scampered up to him and said, “Here, follow me, master Set.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Oh, sorry, I should have said something. The Prince commands it.”

He looked at the girl. She was a strange one. She followed her orders with an insouciant impudence and reminded him strongly of someone—no, some _thing_. Black Magician Girl. It was difficult not to stare at her as he followed her down the hall.

Her chattering continued incessantly as they went. “I don’t know why the prince has taken such an interest. I think it has something to do with your injury, but I can’t imagine why. It was a normal injury that took place during training. The servants are gossiping, though. They say that the Prince might have some sort of crush on you. That’s ridiculous though. You hardly know each other and the Prince isn’t the sort to take a romantic interest in someone he doesn’t know well.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, but continued as though he’d asked the question. “Like with Mahad.”

_Mahad?_

“That was just a fling, you know? And he’s going to have to marry anyway, so he’ll have to cultivate an interest in women—oh, we’re here.”

Seto’s head was starting to ache again.

The two of them knelt in obeisance, and when they arose, Seto looked around. They were standing in a room filled floor to ceiling with shelves upon shelves of scrolls of papyrus. There were a few desks and stools outfitted with writing utensils. At one of these, Yugi was seated, again, dressed for the heat in a simple linen kilt, but with the elaborate jewelry that denoted his station.

“Very good. Thank you, Mana,” he said. “Please, join Mahad for your studies.”

“Mahad?” asked Seto.

“She is studying magic,” he said simply. “The only magic you will wield will be that of your _sennen_ item … most likely the _sennen_ rod, given our assessments. It’s a very important assignment.”

“Those things …” Seto didn’t want to think about them. _There was something … wrong … black …_

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Did Mahad’s remedy not work? I should call for—”

“I awoke feeling fine. I have a slight headache, but …”

“Tell me immediately if it gets any worse,” he said.

“Mahad …” Seto said. “That girl gossips constantly. She … I’m reluctant to repeat gossip, but perhaps you might want to be aware … your attention to me is being misinterpreted.”

“As a crush, you mean? Royalty is the main topic of gossip, most of it untrue.” Yugi shrugged and sighed. “Meanwhile, I’ve told Akhenaden that I wanted your help with a minor project while you are prohibited from training.”

“There was no objection?”

“I’m sure there was, only they dare not refuse me.”

“My Prince …” Seto began hesitantly.

“What is it?” He smiled encouragingly. “You still … you remember nothing?”

“What I remember is of a different place. There are similar people … faces,” he said, thinking of Black Magician Girl, “and I don’t know how to find things. Basic things … like …”

Yugi’s face reddened a little and he blurted, “Oh, Set, I’m sorry! You need to know where to get breakfast—and-and to bathe. You don’t even know where to find your things or even your own training materials.” He thought. “And you still haven’t informed High Priest Akhenaden. He must be informed right away of your predicament.”

Upon seeing Seto’s expression, he hastened to add, “for your own safety, if nothing else. Please. Even if Akhenaden is involved in this somehow—which is unlikely—not telling him anything might well play into the hands of our adversary.”

_Our_ adversary.

Why did that encourage Seto? He preferred to work alone. Didn’t he? He said nothing, but followed Yugi out into the hallway and through the corridors, once again thankful for his eidetic memory.

At last they came out into an area with a large pool and flowing fountains, surrounded by gardens and beautiful hangings. “This is where the initiates and higher-level servants bathe—male, of course,” he said.

Seto didn’t like the fact that the facilities were communal, but tried his best to hide his distaste by examining them curiously. “Naturally, the High Priests have their own bath, as does the royal family and the harem …”

Seto turned to see Yugi’s expectant expression. Surely he didn’t expect Seto to casually disrobe and bathe in front of him. “My Prince …?”

The boy laughed. “You are the most rigid and shy person I’ve ever encountered,” he stated. “Are you embarrassed that you aren’t Set himself?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You seem embarrassed that you’re _human_ , Set. You excel so readily that you see any evidence that levels you with the rest of humanity as an indictment of weakness. But you _are_ human, and that isn’t something that you need to weed out of yourself. You need to accept and understand that in yourself or how are you ever going to have any compassion for others?”

“Do I need to have compassion for true weakness?”

“You need to understand the people of this country in order to properly deal justice. That is the day-to-day function of the High Priesthood. If you are to hold the _sennen_ rod—”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Set, I don’t understand, you’ve always wanted that. It’s been ordained.”

“Never mind. There are other—”

“You’ll understand when your memory returns.”

“Right now we need to find out what—”

“What this guy is after. After you bathe and eat. I won’t have you passing out.” The boy started walking toward one of the palace entrances. “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you.”

Seto scowled.

_He thinks I’m bashful, does he?_ Communal bathing was one thing, but being watched while bathing was another completely. As Seto removed his meager clothing and entered the pool, he considered how comfortable he would feel having Yugi—even a VR Yugi—scrutinize him during the process. He looked around.

_Do these people even have anything they use for soap?_

* * *

Later, after a bath and a meal, Seto was feeling much better.

“Now, we must inform Akhenaden of your condition.” Yugi seemed intent on helping Seto sort out his predicament.

Seto sighed. “You still believe this is the best course of action.”

“I know it is.”

“Hn. You understand this situation better than I.” Seto hoped that he was trusting the right character. After all, wouldn’t Bakura realize that he was most predisposed to put his trust in this particular character? Or … would he believe that their rivalry would cause a natural enmity? It was difficult for him to gauge Bakura’s strategy. He’d almost never seen this side of the wimpy little guy.

Seto followed Yugi down yet another set of endless corridors and up a spiral staircase to what appeared to be an alchemical laboratory where Akhenaden stood poring over a lengthy scroll.

“M-my Prince!” he said, dropping immediately to his knees. “And … Set? What brings you here?”

“Akhenaden, it’s come to my attention that Set has something that he must tell you. He’s been rather too embarrassed to tell you this before now, hoping that the situation would resolve itself, but it hasn’t thus far.”

“Master Akhenaden, I regret to inform you that I … I have no memory of anything before yesterday’s … incident.”

The color drained from Akhenaden’s face, causing him to age before their eyes. “This is intolerable!” he said. His hand struck out like a viper and gripped Seto’s wrist like a vice. “I must examine you immediately.”

Yugi must have caught Seto’s expression of acute horror at the idea of that man facing him down with that staring golden object and said, firmly, “I’m positive that won’t be necessary. I have my personal physician on call and if Set’s condition doesn’t improve markedly by tomorrow, I’ll have him take decisive action.”

Akhenaden didn’t look satisfied, but he dropped Seto’s wrist. “I’m going to do my own research, with your permission, my Prince,” he said, bowing his head.

“Please do.”

The two said their farewells and hastened down the long stairway, Seto trying to suppress any obvious expression of relief.

But halfway down, Yugi suddenly sat on a stair and started laughing almost hysterically.

“What the hell are you laughing about?” Seto asked, trying valiantly not to join in the addictive laughter, his chest hitching.

“You sh-should have seen your face! But by Osiris himself, I wouldn’t have wanted to be in your shoes! Who wants to have that dried-up raisin peering into their mind?” He leaned back, gasping.

Seto finally gave in, glad to have some sort of emotional release for all of the relentless stress that had been amassing ever since he’d been stuck in this infernal game. “H-he he wou-would pro-probably shri-shrivel up y-your brains j-just by looking at th-them!”

Seto turned, bracing himself on a stair to keep from stumbling.

It wasn’t that funny, but somehow, Yugi seemed to think so and burst into fresh gales of laughter, finally holding his stomach as his breath ran out. “Qu-quit it Set, I c-can’t breathe!”

Finally, the two hiccuped and regained their breath. “Here, Set,” said Yugi, “help me up.”

Seto stood and held out a hand to Yugi, who grasped it with both of his. He was a much smaller boy with much smaller hands and Seto pulled him up easily. _I could lift him and carry him down these stairs without any difficulty at all_ , he thought.

“My Prince, may I ask a personal question?”

“Please.”

“You’re not afraid of Master Akhenaden, are you?”

Seto realized that he had asked far too blunt a question from the way that Yugi’s head swiveled to face him, but he nevertheless answered rather than rebuking him. “I find him worthy of caution, Set,” he said with a wry smile. Then his expression changed, a crease forming across his brow. “It’s your reaction that I find intriguing. You’ve always trusted Akhenaden implicitly, but now …” He shook his head. “You don’t want to go near him.”

“He reminds me of someone.” Seto frowned. The man didn’t look anything like Gozaburo and he wasn’t a rich merchant, so … what … ? He couldn’t put his finger on what it was that linked the two together in his mind. Surely it couldn’t be the father-figure thing. This character Seto was playing meant little to nothing to him … didn’t he?

But Yugi was speaking. “You mean in this ‘other life’ you’ve been talking about? I think it would really help us if you’d tell me about that.”

“It wouldn’t make any sense to you, trust me.”

Yugi didn’t look satisfied. “All right, Set, I’ll leave it be for now. But, I’m warning you, there will come a time when I’ll command you to tell me all about it. It would be better for you to choose a time to tell me about it yourself.”

“We’ve done all the things that you’ve recommended so far,” Seto commented.

“Yes, and I haven’t formulated a good plan yet,” he admitted. “I should have a better idea this evening after I’ve spent the afternoon with Bakura.”

“You …?”

“You said yourself that everything we do and say might be monitored anyway, so we might as well consider that we are at a complete disadvantage in this game. Only our thoughts are concealed. Only those things that we can somehow signal to each other without our adversary knowing can be kept between ourselves. And we do not know each other well enough to communicate well in this manner. So.”

“So, this person holds all the cards.”

“So, this person has every reason to believe he’s going to win,” Yugi said, looking Seto in the eye with a confident grin.

Seto returned the look, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

_Bakura is overconfident. He doesn’t realize who he’s up against._

That’s what Yugi was telling him. It came across as clearly as if the boy had said it directly. Maybe they knew each other better than this prince character realized. But Bakura knew them both better than he realized as well. “My Prince …” he said.

“Yes?”

“Be careful. He knows more than he’s saying.”

Yugi gave him a strange look and said, “Of course.”

* * *

Seto found himself back in the library for the afternoon. It was Yugi’s suggestion that he research this situation thoroughly.

But what the hell was he supposed to research? Magic? What was Bakura getting at?

This made no sense.

And—he pulled a scroll out at random—these were all written out in some sort of elaborate scribble.

_Read them. Right. Tell me another one._

He sat on a stool at one of the high tables and unfurled it, scanning the text with casual, caustic sardonicism.

_Wait._

_I can read this._

Was it the VR system? Whatever it was, the symbols before him were as legible as Kanji. In fact, they were more legible than English, which he read fluently. It was exactly like the oral language that they were speaking, as natural to him as his native tongue, yet strange as ever, seeing his bronze hands holding the papyrus scroll with its odd painted figures and hieroglyphs.

He couldn’t believe the detail and realism in the VR program. It was so much more advanced than his own systems that he couldn’t help but feel a certain level of envy … even awe. Moreover, his estimation of the time he’d been under was starting to concern him. Even if the “story” was taking less virtual time than real time, he would have been “under” for a considerable amount of real time by now. This could turn out to pose real health concerns.

But whatever he was facing, he had no choice.

He had to continue this, whatever it was, to its conclusion—or hope that Mokuba and his friends would find and rescue him in time.

As lame and pathetic as that sounded.

But holding out was a victory in itself.

At least … that was what he told himself.


	5. Trespass

Seto spent the afternoon immersing himself in scroll after scroll. It had turned out that he was quite as adept at reading in this language as any other, if not more so, and he consumed the scrolls voraciously.

He had determined that the best course of action—loath as he was to pursue it—was to research magic. Whatever this place was, it seemed to be rife with magic. Akhenaden, a personage whom his own character was tied up with, was obviously pursuing some sort of alchemical studies; Mahad was some sort of magician who was teaching both Yugi (unsurprisingly) and that annoyingly prying Mana. All of the initiates were to inherit various magical totems, of which, apparently, Yugi’s pendant was one.

Weird touch, that.

Perhaps that’s significant? If only he actually knew more about this Bakura person …

Annoying.

Why did Yugi have to have such dangerous friends, anyway?

After this was all over, he would have to talk to Yugi about that.

But … magic. It seemed like there was no end of things that you could do with it, but that it was unstable, unreliable, and dangerous. That is, most often you were dealing with dark forces that would eventually turn around and bite you in your own butt—or getting your power meant taking advantage of some other poor slob’s misery … most often lots of other poor slobs’ misery.

Yeah … not what he wanted to get involved in.

More than ever, he didn’t want to touch that rod thing. Not even in VR space. It just felt …

… _wrong_.

Besides.

He was more than powerful enough without all that bullshit.

He did figure out one thing and he was positive that it was important. There was one ingredient that was often necessary for the most powerful spells—transformation spells, summoning spells, banishing spells, binding spells, sealing spells …

… but—he had no idea what it could possibly have to do with this—and with him.

* * *

The prince looked forward to his encounter with Bakura. He’d discovered already that the boy had an engaging and subtle mind during the previous night’s banquet and after discussing Set’s concerns, he was even more eager to probe him. If what Set suspected was true …

As the prince saw it, Set had a very brilliant, very analytical, but very straightforward mind. The prince realized that, in many ways, Set outstripped him in sheer intellectual prowess. However, Set lacked intuition and a basic, natural understanding of the human psyche, which is where the prince excelled. He looked forward to the day that they could unite their strengths because he foresaw that they would make a formidable team.

If pragmatic Set brought up such concerns with regard to Bakura, he had to take them seriously.

He walked into the gardens with a carefree smile on his face. “Bakura, I understand you are free for the afternoon. I was wondering if you had plans?”

“Nothing so far. Perhaps …?”

The prince grinned. “There are many things to do and see here.”

“Then you have no need to tend to your pretty priests-in-training?”

That comment surprised the prince, but he took care not to show it. It certainly backed up Set’s opinion that the boy was behind this and Set was the target. Why did he have an interest in the priest initiates, and why would he insinuate that the prince did?

“Are you interested in my priest initiates?” he asked in a casual tone. “You realize, of course, that they are no slaves to be toyed with. They are to be the most respected servants in my palace one day.”

Bakura grinned knowingly and said, “That doesn’t mean you can’t, well, get to know them _personally_.”

The prince shrugged. “I hardly know them very well at all.”

“Truly?” asked Bakura with a hint of amazement. “Because they are, as a whole, surprisingly attractive.”

“Yes, indeed, I don’t know them well.” He cast a return gaze on Bakura and said, “But if you’d like an introduction …”

“Perhaps later. That tall one, especially. The one with the striking dark blue eyes who ran out of dinner so suddenly?” His grin turned positively feral.

“Are you certain? He’s not of noble blood. He’s probably not, er, tame.”

The grin widened further. “All the better.”

The prince suppressed a shudder. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Set alone with this person. And if this Bakura knew the advanced levels of magic that Set suspected, Set would be at a complete disadvantage, no matter his strength, his bravery, or his intentions.

Bakura seemed to catch something in his expression because he said, “… unless you have a prior claim on the boy.”

“Not at all. Like I said, I barely know him.”

Bakura smiled. “Good, then it’s decided. Where is he now?”

“He’s at his studies and can’t be interrupted. I’ll introduce you tonight.” _After I can warn Set_. “Meanwhile, what would you like to do? We could go down to the river to cool off. Tell me about your father. Where have you been in your travels?”

He smiled enigmatically. “Around. Recently, to the far east. _Far_ east.”

“How far?”

“Extremely. In more ways than one.”

The prince gave him a penetrating look, but couldn’t quite come to a conclusion as to what he was getting at. This one was a tough nut. He seemed to be having a lot of fun making jokes for his own private amusement. If he could only figure any of them out, he might have a chance of deciphering this puzzle.

They spent a couple of hours in the comfort of the pools by the river’s edge, but the prince found himself no closer to a solution.

When Bakura at last departed in search of his father, the prince left to search for Mahad.

“My Prince,” Mahad said, kowtowing deeply.

“Please, let’s dispense with formalities. We’re friends and I want your help.”

“What can I help you with?”

“What is your impression of the ambassador’s son?”

“Bakura? You mean other than the fact that he has extremely poor manners?”

“Yes. He makes Set look courtly. Other than that.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at us, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“You mean the priest initiates?”

“Yes. Especially Set. Even he noticed it.”

“What do you mean, ‘even he’?”

“Well, you’ve noticed his lack of social awareness, haven’t you? He wouldn’t normally notice when anyone looks in his direction, female or male. At least three-quarters of the young, unattached female servants stare after him and those who don’t are generally involved. I don’t believe Set has noticed any of this.”

“And you noticed this?”

“I try to be aware of palace intrigues because it can have a direct or indirect effect on _you_ , my Prince.”

“And what about Set?”

“What about him?”

“What is your assessment?”

Mahad looked uncomfortable. “It would take a while to give a full assessment, and that would be best done in a written report.”

The prince smiled encouragingly. “I understand, of course. This is extemporaneous. But I want to know.”

“May I …”

“I can’t explain just yet. Perhaps later.”

“Very well, my Prince. He’s brilliant, talented, both mentally and physically. Extremely strong. Gifted in endurance. An excellent warrior and swift student. But he’s also prideful, aggressive, impatient, impulsive, takes unnecessary risks … you know this, my Prince.”

“Do you think that he’s prone to flights of fancy? Imagining things?”

“If anything, the opposite.”

“Would he be likely to make up stories to manipulate others?”

“Which others do you speak of, my Prince?”

“Myself, for example.”

“I think that it would be unlikely that he would resort to manipulation at all—he would first choose force—but he would manipulate you or the others of the royal family least of all, my Prince. I believe him to have an extremely loyal and loving character at heart.”

“Loving?” He had a hard time picturing the aggressive Set as loving.

“Why … yes. He … love is the basis of loyalty, after all, and he treats defenseless innocents with gentle compassion.”

_He does?_

The prince tried to picture it, but had a hard time doing so.

* * *

“Hello, Set,” said the prince, entering the library. “Please—” He motioned to prevent Set from kowtowing. He didn’t care to waste time in formality, and, besides, there was something now in Set that seemed to bristle against such displays of fealty. The prince did not want to force him to do something that seemed so obviously against his nature.

But this was something that he’d had no problem with just yesterday. Before the accident.

“There’s something you need to know right away. Bakura is going to want to see you. I couldn’t object to it.” The prince scowled. “He’s pretending as though he has a _personal_ interest … in you. That’s not a possibility … is it?”

Set positively glowered. “Absolutely not. I wonder what he’s trying to accomplish by that? Or if it’s just his excuse for talking with me. I don’t understand why he can’t just ask to talk with me …”

“There isn’t much of a reason for him to interact with a priest initiate.”

“So he chooses the most base pretext …”

“But perhaps the most obvious and understandable one.”

“ _Tch!_ ”

“Have you even looked at yourself when dressing for the day?”

Set turned to him full on, staring at him, wide eyed, allowing the prince full access to their dark blue depths for once. It was just for an instant, but long enough.

_Those eyes …_

“Set, I don’t want you to allow him to use you just so that you can get information that you—we need. Do you understand? I want you to call the guards and inform me immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my Prince.”

He wasn’t entirely satisfied with the rote answer he received, but he let it stand.

“So, what have you learned?”

“My Prince … would you mind if I reported on that after I met with Bakura? I could make a more complete assessment then.”

“Very well.” It didn’t sit well with him, but he was inclined to give his initiate a little space. If nothing else, this should give him a better idea of what Set’s capabilities, particularly against certain types of opponents. “You’ll be dining with Bakura privately tonight.”

“Not in the formal dining hall?”

“No. In the blue dining room. Please dress formally for the occasion.”

* * *

Seto entered his room and stood stock still, shocked. The few belongings in it had been ransacked and flung about. His eyes were immediately drawn to two figurines of gods that had been deliberately smashed on the stone floor. Instinctively, he knelt beside them, gathering the pieces with care, not certain exactly why he was doing this. One of the figures was Set, the god his character was apparently named for, and the other the snake, Wadjet.

He scowled, taking the head of Set into one hand and staring at it, trying to pull together thoughts as fragmentary as the miniature gods themselves. _What a strange, long face!_ He found himself struggling with an influx of odd sensations.

“Ah—!” He released his grip, inadvertently dropping the damaged little head, suddenly realizing that he’d tightened his hand around the little object so much that it scraped his hand to the point that it drew blood. He gently placed the ceramic shards on his pillow, including the little head, disregarding the bizarre voice in the back of his mind that insisted that he give them a decent burial.

What was wrong with him? He had to get dressed.

But why? Why tear apart his room? What could possibly be the point of it? Seto couldn’t fathom it. What could he possibly be looking for? What could Seto possibly have hidden in a world that _Bakura_ had created?

It made no sense.

Was he just aiming to put Seto on edge? If so, it wasn’t going to work. No matter what stupidity he encountered or how strange this world was.

Seto swiftly righted the objects and put them in basic order. Then he opened the chest that contained his clothing with a little trepidation.

“Hn.” The contents of the chest weren’t too badly mussed, as though the intruder had taken care going through them, unlike the remainder of the room. “Ha,” Seto murmured to himself. “Apparently he doesn’t want me to miss our appointment either.”

Which brought him to another quandary. _Dress formally?_

Despite his recent experience with formal dining, he was going to need help with that.

There was a knock. “Come,” Seto said, still looking through the chest of clothing.

“Seto? What—” The future Guardian was looking around the little room with a distressed expression.

“I know. Ignore that. Why are you here, Mahad?”

“Let me help you with that.”

“Mahad?”

“Don’t be concerned. The Prince sent me. He told me of your predicament.”

“Hn. Soon the entire palace will know about it, so I suppose it’s just as well. Come here and show me what ‘formal dress’ is and how to put it on, will you?” Why beat around the bush? He needed to get dressed soon.

Mahad knelt next to the chest and pulled out a robe of primrose silk. To Seto’s relief, this one provided more coverage than most of the clothing he’d seen. He vaguely wondered if Yugi had suggested the choice of clothing, but decided that was nonsense. Mahad even assisted Seto in applying the kohl to his eyes.

“I’ll come with you to the dining room,” said Mahad.

“You don’t have to, I can locate it,” said Seto.

“Actually, the Prince requested it.”

“Hn.” Seto sighed. Yugi had been far too solicitous. He followed Mahad. “And your thoughts about this?”

“I think that you’ve been proceeding with caution as is proper in this sort of case. Your amnesia is troubling, as is your sudden change in attitude toward various aspects of your life. These things should not be taken for granted.”

“Why do you think—”

But they had arrived at the blue dining room already.

Seto dropped his question and entered, leaving Mahad to find his own dinner. He was glad to find himself alone and seated himself at the table to await his companion.

Bakura arrived a few minutes later, almost as the food arrived. He took a moment to speak with one of the serving slaves, then seated himself.

“Well, Bakura,” Seto said, “Are you ready to tell me what the hell you want?”

“Are you ready to give me what I want?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer then,” he said. Bakura skipped the vegetarian courses and went immediately for a roast goose, ripping into the flesh with such wild abandon—and his bare hands—that Seto’s stomach soured … again.

Seto spotted some honeyed ginger slices and began chewing on one, gaining scant relief.

“How am I supposed to give you what you want if I don’t know what it is?”

“Oh, but you do. And I’m doing everything in my power to remind you of it, believe me. You’ll catch on, sooner or later.” He bit into the leg of some type of fowl, then continued as he chewed, much to Seto’s disgust. “But aren’t you at all hungry? This is good!”

“I’m eating a small dinner tonight.”

Slaves entered, carrying some wine and expensive glass goblets, then departed.

“That’s my signal,” Bakura smiled.

“What do you mean?”

“I arranged for some privacy so that we could have a discussion. Just the two of us.”

“Hn. I don’t see that it will do you any good.”

“I _am_ going to get satisfaction, one way or the other.”

Seto’s attention snapped to high alert.

But for now, Bakura simply continued to eat in his singularly disgusting manner, choosing the rarest cuts of meat. After a few minutes of smacking he said, “Well, Priest, anything seem familiar yet?”

“What the hell are you talking about? We’re playing some sort of cockamamie game in a ridiculous setting. Familiar? What would be familiar about this?”

“Some of the people, for example?”

Seto snorted. “You think that casting Yugi as some sort of royalty and me as his servant is amusing? Go ahead and have your laugh while it lasts, you—”

“The laugh is seriously on you, Priest. What’s really hilarious is that you’re the one who has all the answers—you’re the _only_ one and you pigheadedly refuse to see it!”

Bakura arose and advanced on Seto, his eyes flashing, menacing. For a moment Seto completely forgot what to think about what he might be after because he detected something within those eyes that was totally inhuman. He stood, his cushion flying out behind him.

That whatever-it-was caused Seto to unconsciously take a few steps backward until his heel contacted the wall behind him.

Bakura snarled out a laugh and pushed forward, pressing Seto’s shoulders back into the wall, his face intruding so closely that their noses almost touched. “You know, Priest, for an insect, you’re fascinating. Almost … _edible_. No matter how badly you’re squashed, you come back to buzz and annoy. You think that you can beat me simply by keeping your damn mouth shut. Well, I’ve got news for you.”

Seto pushed against Bakura’s chest with all his strength, but to his amazement, failed to budge his light frame a centimeter.

Bakura laughed, slamming a palm against the wall on one side of Seto while he ran his other hand over his chest, Seto’s expensive garb providing little protection. Bakura’s hand left a greasy smear across the fine, glossy fabric. “I _will_ have my way, Priest. You must know by now that you are completely powerless here. You have no friends. You accept none in the world outside and all the ones you have here are mere shadows; pawns to be moved around a chessboard. They are my pawns as much as they are your friends. _Give in!_ ”

Bakura’s grip closed over Seto’s throat and he found himself choking. Lips very close to his ear whispered, “The best thing about you? The very best? You suffer so passionately! So intensely! And you never give up! You keep coming back for _more_ punishment! You’re like an all-you-can-eat buffet!”

Seto’s lips involuntarily parted as he gasped for breath and Bakura took the opportunity to seize them in a rough kiss that was more like a bite.

Seto continued to struggle, feeling like he was smothering, pushing against the relentless press of flesh against him, pulling at whatever purchase his hands could find, his feet slipping on the polished floor.

“ _Give up!_ ”

Desperately, Seto reached for Bakura’s mane of white hair to pull his head back. But Bakura yanked Seto forward, tearing his fine silken formal clothing and causing the both of them to tumble onto the floor, Seto on top of Bakura.

At last, Bakura’s hand was shaken loose from Seto’s neck and he took a deep, shuddering breath. “ _Gua—!_ ”

Seto tried to shout for help as Yugi had directed, but Bakura snarled, “Shut _up!_ ” and yanked Seto’s head down, shutting off his shout in a full, deep kiss and wrapping his legs around him tightly.

Seto couldn’t help himself. He renewed his struggles, fighting a growing panic that he could barely control. Worse, Bakura clearly saw his growing terror and this spurred him on.

Seto was kicking, but he was in no position to contact anything useful. Meanwhile, his arms were pinned and his clothing was badly torn. Things were going from bad to worse. And …

Seto tried mightily to ignore it, but he couldn’t help noticing …

His terror seemed to arouse Bakura tremendously.

A greasy hand clamped over his mouth and nose while another renewed its grip around his neck.

“Submit! I’m taking you whether you do or not. Now.”

 

**Author’s notes:**

Thanks, everyone who sent me kudos! This particular story was a slow starter at Fanfiction, but seems to be getting a better start here for some reason. I truly appreciate the support!

I noted when I first posted this chapter that this is my first “non-con” scene, but it’s still more indicated than graphic, so ... let's just say I'm glad this site has both the M _and_ the E ratings.

Just a technical note on the shadow game characters. I’m trying to treat them more or less like the shadow-characters of Atem’s memory-game. That is, they are shaped by memory (of the participants) but have their own sort of inner life and self-direction within the shadow game ... even though they aren’t people _per se_. Clear as mud? (This is my rationale for giving Atem a POV.) Just read and enjoy ... [On second thought, perhaps the way people see us is part of us? Let's complicate the issue even more, shall we? Haha ...]

_honeyed ginger slices_ : I highly recommend ginger for nausea. Try candied ginger. Or ginger mints.


	6. Illumination

“Submit! I’m taking you whether you do or not. Now.”

Seto struggled to breathe, the hand fastened over his mouth and nose tight and unbearable, his lungs screaming for oxygen to serve his panicking body and over-stressed mind. He tried with all his might to peel away that relentless hand.

Just as he thought he was going to lose consciousness, he dimly heard a shout. “ _What—?! Get off! Now!!_ ”

Then the body wrapped around him was forcibly removed by guards and Seto found himself sputtering and coughing, fighting intense vertigo and nausea.

He knew it could only have been scant moments, but it felt like an hour since that hand had clamped onto him.

_Th-this was VR?!_

_How—?_

The prince continued to scream at Bakura in outrage. “How _dare_ you presume to approach one of my subjects in such a manner? _Attack him?!_ I should have you executed for these actions. If you weren’t the ambassador’s son—!”

“Come now!” Bakura retorted, “I’m more than willing to share!”

Meanwhile, Seto was struggling for breath on his hands and knees.

He’d never been so terrified, humiliated …

… unmanned …

… and … in front of Yugi!

He made to get to his feet.

He was going to _kill_ Bakura!

VR or no VR …

But the vertigo returned with a vengeance and he collapsed just as he attempted to rise, nearly hitting his head.

“ _Set!_ Don’t—” began Yugi.

“I—”

“Don’t say anything,” said Yugi. “Get him out of here!” he shouted at the guards impatiently, eager to remove Bakura from Seto’s sight. He knelt and gathered Seto into his arms.

Seto tried to struggle away. He hated physical contact of any kind. He even felt uncomfortable when Mokuba hugged him, even though he loved Mokuba unreservedly and secretly enjoyed those hugs despite his discomfort. But he couldn’t fight it. All the strength in his body seemed to have been drained. He accepted the prince’s embrace while he tried to concentrate on controlling his body, which was shaking violently and showing no signs of stopping. Even in this heat, he felt frigidly cold, and yet sweat rolled down his body. His breath shuddered through his clenched jaws in hitches and he felt humiliatingly near tears.

“Let it out,” encouraged Yugi. But that would only increase Seto’s agony. Cry? In front of his greatest rival? He was revealing such depths of weakness as it was. VR or no VR, this was … _excruciating_. Debasing.

Seto didn’t want to further embarrass himself in front of the man—here, in this travesty of a world, little more than a boy—he so respected, but he found himself unable to pull away. He told himself that it was only VR, that it hadn’t actually happened, but … the experience of it had been so real, so visceral, that he couldn’t simply put it out of his mind no matter how he might demand it of himself.

Still, he found that his exhausted body began to relax slowly under Yugi’s ministrations. Yugi was holding him securely with one arm and stroking him like a cat with the other, murmuring reassuring phrases in his ear.

“I’m going to call for the physician,” he said.

“No—no, don’t … I-I don’t want … this is embarrassing enough. The rumors will be …”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say that I went out of the palace. That I was accosted.”

“You can handle yourself so well—”

“Against several large men?”

“All right. If that’s what you want.”

Not that lying would help. The guards had seen what had happened.

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Ah, Mahad. Good. Here, Set, drink this.”

Seto accepted the steaming cup and drank it gratefully, without question. Unlike Mahad’s previous concoction, this one was soothing and mild, mixed with wild honey. Almost immediately, Seto felt drowsiness descend upon him like a crushing weight. “Yu …” he tried to protest, but sleep was relentless and was going to take him.

Seto struggled helplessly against the oncoming waves of unconsciousness. As they overtook him, snatches of conversation filtered through to him.

“Mahad, thank you. This is my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself, my Prince. You know that he would have done something just as reckless on his own initiative.”

“Yes, but I could have preven—”

“It happened. It does no good to blame yourself.”

“Please help me …” Yugi grunted with some sort of effort. They were doing something to him, but Seto was barely aware what it could be.

“My Prince! Allow me! You shouldn’t—”

“This is the least I can do. Did you see the state he was in? I’ve never seen Set like …”

… but the conversation was lost in the merciful tides of slumber.

* * *

In the darkness of a Domino night, Kujaku Mai settled onto a barstool and opened her ears. She knew that this bar was particularly popular among duelists. “Hey Joe,” she said to the barkeeper, “hear anything interesting about Kaiba’s disappearance?”

“Well, I—” began Joe, but he was interrupted by a voice behind Mai. “Who wants to know, good-looking?”

“Well, just little old me,” she said, looking around. “What do you know?”

The man who spoke up was wearing a duel disk and a sly expression. “Oh, I just happened to be standing nearby. Is it worth anything?”

“What, isn’t it enough to have my interest?” Mai shrugged. “I’m sure Kaiba Mokuba would be very happy to pay up. I can contact him easily enough.”

She pulled out her cell phone and after a little negotiation they were on their way to her car, Mai animatedly chatting on the phone.

“You can hang up now, I’m here,” said Jounouchi, joining up with them. “So what’s the scoop?”

“Eh, this guy won’t talk until we meet up with Mokuba.”

“Sure you don’t want me to keep trying in the meantime?”

“Aw, I think everyone’s going to bed about now. It’s probably best to take a rest and start fresh tomorrow.”

“OK.” Jounouchi squeezed into the back of Mai’s car and allowed the duelist to get in the front.

Mai’s little sports car drew up alongside a sleek black limousine. “Here you go,” she said.

“What?”

“Don’t be dense, this is Kaiba’s limo.”

Mokuba popped out of the back with Yami Yugi next to him. “Is this the guy? What’s the info? Don’t worry, you won’t be stiffed.” Mokuba slipped him a paper to get him started.

The man looked at the slip of paper, lifted an eyebrow and said, “There’s more where this came from? Sure thing, kid. Yeah, I saw a guy, looked just like your brother, same coat. But the guy with him said he was drunk. I thought at first he was probably just trying to look like a big shot, you know, had someone make a coat like your brother’s? Yeah, he was propped up by the guy, dead on his feet, so I thought nothing of it.”

“You—you didn’t figure he might be unconscious?”

“In the middle of the square? That’s pretty brazen.”

“So what was the companion like?”

“Yeah, pretty hard to miss, long white hair all the way down his back, skinny, too. Uh, he was wearing some sort of trenchcoat. Black … Sorry, I can’t tell you more, only … the dude was weird. That’s it, weird. Really weird. I didn’t like him. That’s why I decided to get out of there and go get a drink or two in the first place. Forgot about dueling on the spot.”

“Bakura,” said Yugi.

Mokuba nodded.

* * *

When Seto awoke, long rays of morning sun illuminated the room. “Good morning. Feeling better?”

_God, wouldn’t this ever end?_

Seto jerked his head up to see who was speaking and saw the one they called Shada. Everything that occurred the previous evening came crashing back into his consciousness. He had been carried to his own room, apparently. He suppressed a groan and forced himself to reply. “Good morning, Shada.” His voice emerged as little more than a croak.

Seto inwardly cringed, thinking of what the palace rumor mill must already have churned out regarding the event. He felt consumed with shame that he had been powerless to defend against that slip of a man. He cleared his throat and asked, “What did they tell you about what happened?”

His voice sounded a little better, but it was still hoarse. He decided that would have to do.

“Mahad said that you had ventured out of the palace and were accosted.” He sounded a little skeptical.

“Yes …”

“You are having the most amazing run of bad luck.”

“A couple of incidents.”

“We must take you to the temple and pray to the gods.”

“That is a good suggestion.” _Not …_

“I think we should pray to the god that you’ve been named after,” Shada smiled, “seeing as chaos seems to be stalking you.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” _Again: Not …_

Seto looked at himself and realized that he’d been changed into a sheath of plain cotton for sleeping and suppressed a growl. “Hn.” He didn’t like being handled so intimately.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing that can be helped.” He got up and washed his face and hands, selected clothing for the day, and started for the baths. “You don’t need to come with me, you know.”

“The Prince ordered me to come with you. When you’re at breakfast, I’m to send that you are awake. I believe he wants to speak with you.”

“Hn.”

* * *

“Father? You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes. One of the matters that the Ambassador from Assyria wanted to speak of had to do with you.”

“With me?” The prince tried to think what matter could have to do with him.

“It’s something that I should have brought up several months ago. After all, you are becoming a healthy young man.”

The prince colored. “Oh.” He just knew where this was going.

“You haven’t mentioned your plans yet … about marriage, or …” his father said, leadingly.

“I’d always thought there was plenty of time for that.”

“But … your body … it responds … normally?”

The flush in the prince’s cheeks deepened. “I assure you, Father, I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Then you require an outlet. I’ve received a portrait of the princess.” He handed the prince a small scroll. “If this is at all accurate, you will not be disappointed.”

The prince glanced up. “So, I’m to have no choice in this?”

“Why would you object? She’s pretty, you can marry as often as you want to … Tell me what the problem is.”

“I know nothing about her. What if she’s unbearable?”

His father laughed. “You don’t have to discuss the news of the day with her. If you’re not crazy about her personality, just let her hang out in the harem until she figures out her place … or she can learn to stay in the harem forever when you have wives you like better. That’s how it goes.”

“I suppose. I’d just prefer to choose my first bride myself.”

“You can select the next one,” his father smiled. “You can have as much practice as you’d like. Right now, you have a very pretty girl to look forward to meeting.”

“I suppose you know best. Thank you, Father. There is one thing I’d like to talk to you about, though. … Last night …”

“You’re speaking of the incident with the ambassador’s son?”

“Yes.”

Akhenamkhanen sighed. “There’s little more that I can do about that. I realize that you are quite protective of your future Guardians, as you should be, but this being the ambassador’s son, we must allow the ambassador to determine discipline as he sees fit.” The pharaoh leaned back in his seat thoughtfully. “What I don’t understand is how Set managed to be so badly hurt with—”

“With Bakura not hurt at all?”

“Yes. Set is so capable and he doesn’t stand on ceremony. Not with those kinds of stakes.”

“It is difficult to understand. But, Father, I—”

“You want something done. I’m sorry. I’ve spoken to the ambassador. That’s the best I can do.”

“Thank you, Father,” the prince said. He left the room angry and dissatisfied. He was positive that the ambassador would take little to no action.

On his way to breakfast, he walked through one of the gardens to clear his mind and found Bakura there.

“Good morning, Crown Prince,” he said with a sneering smile. “Why did you stop last night’s festivities? I would have been more than happy to let you in on the action, only you never even gave me the chance to offer you any.”

The prince felt hot, corrosive bile rising to his mouth. “You heard me last night,” he breathed, nearly choking on the words.

“I’m sorry, didn’t quite get that.”

“ _You heard me! Last night!_ ”

“Oh, I see. You don’t share. That’s most unsporting of you.”

The prince’s eyes widened. “Th-that’s—You—” His hands twitched, dying to clasp around the boy’s throat, the muscles in his legs tensing. With a supreme effort of will, he turned and strode from the garden, closing his eyes. It had been all he could do not to attempt a magical attack.

He had to be smart about this. Bakura was baiting him intentionally.

But why?

Instead of going to breakfast, the prince headed toward his own room.

* * *

In the relative privacy of his own room, the prince unrolled the papyrus, his brow creased. Examining the painting, he had to admit that the young princess depicted was comely, although he had no doubt she was idealized.

He sighed. He disliked the idea of being pushed into a decision, but he knew that this was in the best interests of his country. Best to produce heirs as soon as possible, he supposed. He hadn’t lied to his father—his body had begun reacting normally and sometimes inconveniently and embarrassingly. He frequently wondered if this condition would become even more inconvenient before it became easier.

The girl in the painting was pretty enough. How idealized was the likeness? He wondered. Was her body as pretty as her face? No doubt she was no more than twelve, the usual age for such alliances, so she would probably blossom more fully after he got to know her. Because she was already his, he by rights could touch himself and imagine her as he pleased … but … he knew nothing of her.

He cast the scroll aside and threw himself down on his back, stretching out on his bed. What did he know about what he wanted? He should look forward to having his carnal urges eased on a regular basis, shouldn’t he? And yet, he felt a haunting disquietude.

He rolled over onto his side and sat up. Restless, he wandered to the window and looked out, trying to decide whether he wanted to go down to the banks of the Nile. But as he looked out, he saw Shada walking in that direction with Set. Shada looked animated, as though engaged in some sort of intense entreaty, while Set, typically, seemed reluctant and reserved. The boy had always held part of himself back, a trait that naturally intrigued the prince and encouraged him to delve into and probe the boy, much to his irritation. The prince smiled at the recollection.

But his smile soon faded as he noted Set’s stiff gate and recalled the previous night’s events that led to it. The sight of Bakura wrapped around Set and his obvious intention to—

The prince’s blood rose at the mere thought. He should kill the boy for even thinking he could take such liberties with his—

_His …?_

Was that the problem? The prince knew that his body had chosen to respond to men and women indiscriminately ever since it had begun to awaken sexually, but …

_His_ … Set …?

Set, so different, so capable, so _tragic_. Set was an orphan, a loner. He’d come in, recommended by an army lieutenant on the basis of his great courage in the hopes that he might have the fortune of becoming a palace guard. But the prince detected a dangerous edge to Set’s courage. He had been abandoned and expected to go it alone. He had an extreme need to succeed on his own merit; do things on his own. He had little to no ability to delegate, despite his military training.

His reputation for courage was based on his penchant for taking calculated risks—often extreme risks—of his own life, but the prince feared that it revealed in him a drive to succeed so intense that the prince believed that he would rather die than fail. Still, Set possessed unyielding loyalty.

One thing the prince was certain of. He, himself, was cautious and calculating, standing patiently in the shadows to carefully read people before acting with complete knowledge, while Set impatiently discarded such considerations, preferring to analyze situations logically and proceed with force and decisive action.

Similarly, he was aware that his own propensities made him likely to mire himself in cynicism from his understanding of the darker side of human failing. He consistently prevailed because he knew with certainty that he would prevail … because the failings of his opponent always provided him with the opening for victory.

Still, that advantage in himself made him sad, and he almost envied the lack of it that he saw in Set. Set felt free to act so quickly without the burden of understanding the darker nature of his opponent. Even if it could get him into trouble, it must be liberating.

And yet, didn’t he have a tendency to forget all that and act rashly himself? When those he loved were in danger?

Impulsively, he got up and ran down toward the river. He hadn’t had a chance to fully discuss what Set had found out—either during his studies or from Bakura.

But he also needed to know. He needed to know whether it was a meeting of the minds that he craved or more.

Was this just some sort of inclination based on an interest in an intriguing mind and personality? Someone he wanted to know better? Well? Intimately?

Were Bakura’s insinuations, palace gossip relayed from Mana by Set, and his own stirrings correct?

Was he?

Was he attracted to Set?

**Author’s Notes:**

Oh, for Pete's sake! Here I am re-posting this and I still didn't get the preview for the next chapter up. I forgot that I had to split this chapter and just copied over the preview I used last time ... which was wrong. My apologies, but since it won't stick around, only my apology will be saved for posterity!

[Here's a response to a review] Seto’s denseness ... well, he seems to have trained himself to ignore what everyone thinks except the “people who matter,” which is limited to precious few. “WHY IS BAKURA SO ICKY!?” He is, isn’t he? I took the rare meat chomping straight from the anime (that always struck me) and I could only imagine how a relatively strait-laced character such as Kaiba would react to that. Plus, you know, Zorc is ascendant in the character at this time. All the monster stuff surrounding Bakura is based on the anime. I hope that I didn’t turn off any (evil!) Bakura fans, but to my mind, he’s not supposed to be a softy. [Note: I think a few were put off by this version of Bakura, hence the warning. ;)]


	7. Exposure

Seto tried to ignore Shada’s presence as he disrobed for the baths. His body was covered with bruises and painful lacerations. He sighed, swallowed, and looked at his reflection in the water. He suppressed a gasp at his visage. The skin around his lips was horribly swollen and bloodied. He lifted a hand to his mouth experimentally and was relieved to find that a lot the damage seemed to be superficial … except for some tissue on the inside of his lip, which was almost mangled.

Again he told himself that this was VR, but the reassurance didn’t ring true in his mind.

His neck had long, purple-black bruises. No wonder he could barely speak.

“Please, Set …” said Shada.

Seto didn’t like the compassion in that voice. It verged on pity. He tried not to snap at the boy as he stepped into the bath.

“M-Mahad gave me some healing herbs for you,” he said. “Mix them with myrrh after your bath and apply them to the bruises.”

“Thanks.”

Seto put all his attention to scrubbing as much of the evidence of the previous night from his body, as though he could remove the traces of Bakura’s touches from his body by washing it.

“My Prince!” Seto heard over his shoulder.

Seto couldn’t help flinching lower into the water.

“No need for formalities,” came Yugi’s voice. “I wanted to talk with Set right away. Please leave us, Shada.”

Seto sighed. He really didn’t want to have this discussion in the nude, particularly after what happened last night. He pulled himself out of the water and dried himself quickly. “What would you like to speak about?” he asked as neutrally as he could manage, dressing himself. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this scanty attire.

“Mahad left you this?” Yugi said, indicating the packet of herbs.

“Yes.”

“Allow me to—”

“No!” he said a little too quickly, then added, “I can do it myself.” He took the packet quickly and grabbed a vial of myrrh.

“Are you …”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Bakura …”

“What did you do with him?”

Yugi sighed. “He’s the ambassador’s son. We detained him, but I … I wasn’t allowed to speak to him. My father thought I was too upset. I couldn’t tell him what we suspect about him—but he does take this seriously! My father would never let—”

“I understand. Please continue with what happened.” Seto concentrated on tending to his cuts and bruises to avoid thinking about the events too deeply.

“His father was informed about the attack and promised to deal with him. But I don’t think he understood the seriousness of the attack. He didn’t … see you.”

“Hn.” Seto sighed and stopped for a moment. _And he won’t_ , he thought, then began smearing some of the concoction carefully around his lips. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation as his pain was relieved. When he opened his eyes, he noticed Yugi staring at him peculiarly. “My Prince … ?”

Copper mixed with the bronze of Yugi’s cheeks and he glanced away for just a second. “Right. The ambassador. I don’t think he’ll punish Bakura very severely, but …”

“That’s not what we need to focus on,” Seto said decisively. As much as he wanted to destroy the bastard, he also wanted to forget that the incident ever happened. Difficult as that would be for the next little while.

At this point a scribe ran up, spouting apologies for the interruption and requesting the prince’s immediate presence in the main hall with the pharaoh. Yugi looked most annoyed but told the scribe to run and tell his father he’d be there directly. Turning back to Seto, he said, “Set, for today, I want you to confine your studies to the royal library. I don’t want you to cross paths with Akhenaden if it can be at all helped.”

Seto nodded.

“In fact, don’t even go down to eat breakfast. I’ll have Mana bring you something.”

Seto slipped the herbs and oil into a bag that hung at his waist— _Might as well have that on hand for later_ , he thought—and followed Yugi to another, smaller library in a different wing of the palace.

_This must be the royal wing_.

The library was smaller, but the appointments were much more expensive.

When Seto’s gaze returned to Yugi, he found him smirking. “Enjoy.”

* * *

“Enjoying being a mere servant?”

“What are you doing here?” Akhenaden demanded, wheeling to face the intruder. “Leave immediately before I call the guards!”

“I don’t think you want to do that. You should hear my proposals first.”

“You …” he hissed. “You’re the ambassador’s son. You think I don’t know what—”

“I know all about palace gossip and how quickly it flows. You know all about what I did to the priest initiate—no, wait, I should say, your son!”

“My—!”

“Yes, I know all about it. That, and more. But, don’t worry, I have no intention of passing that piece of information around.” Bakura smiled. “Do I have your interest?”

Akhenaden grimaced. “For now.” He motioned toward a stool in his workshop for Bakura to seat himself, and sat down at his scribe’s station. “Assuming that you’re right— _assuming_ —if you think that assaulting my son is the way to ingratiate yourself to me, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Oh, but I know your dearest wish … and I can make it come true.”

“And that would be … ?”

“You want your son to become pharaoh.”

“What? I have no …” Akhenaden looked at the boy.

“Stop that. We’ve already established that Set is, in fact, your son. And you … you’re the pharaoh’s brother. But you don’t live in the lap of luxury like a prince of Egypt, do you? You live an ascetic’s life.”

“I … have dedicated my life to protecting Egypt …”

“But you love your son even more, am I correct?”

“I love my son …” The old man looked toward the door, a far-off look entering his eyes. “He’s so strong, capable, brilliant. More than I had any right to expect. He … he—”

Bakura smiled triumphantly. “He, by rights, should be pharaoh, am I right?”

“He …” Akhenaden paused. “By blood and by ability. He has earned the position.”

“But there is one person standing between him and the throne.”

“Yes.”

“Come now. Don’t stand on ceremony. I already know all about you. It would not be to my advantage to pass along any unflattering thing you might say.”

Akhenaden’s face twisted. “Fine, then. I gave everything to save this country for my brother and asked nothing for myself. But … my son … he has nothing, was given no future … He’s barred from the throne by an accident of birth order … and by this boy, my brother’s brat.”

“And you would have your son take that brat’s place?”

Akhenaden shifted his gaze toward the floor, as though he could look through it down the long empty fall that the steps spiraled around.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Then tell me. What is your nephew’s name?”

“His name? What does—” Akhenaden stopped in pure amazement. “I don’t know it. How—?”

“It’s been hidden, by a spell. A very _powerful_ spell. No one knows it, not even the Prince himself. It’s been concealed within your son. There is also some location, deeply hidden, nearby, where it is hidden.”

“My son, but why him?”

“To prevent you from working with me, naturally!” Bakura laughed. “Your son knows it, the Prince knows it, and it is hidden somewhere, guarded by your son somehow, so that you would never attempt to find it. Clever, no? The spell seals my greatest power, the power that can remove him from the throne and place your son there.”

“And if you’re so powerful, what do you want in return?”

“The restoration of my power is enough. That’s all I want and only you can do this for me. It’s your relationship with your son and your access to and knowledge of the palace that I need. I can reward you handsomely and all you have to do is such a little thing.”

Akhenaden frowned, staring at Bakura in wonder. “Such a little thing, for my son’s future …” he marveled.

* * *

Seto saw Yugi enter the library later that day. “Thank goodness all those dreary duties are done for the day,” he said. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t meet with you sooner to discuss everything. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Seto asked as he stood and followed.

“My private garden. I want to talk in a place we’re unlikely to be disturbed or overheard.”

“Hn.”

Yugi smiled as he led the way. “I’m happy to be able to show you this. It isn’t everything, though.”

Seto looked around at the tall palms that led in rows all the way down to the Nile with shrubbery, arbors, and flowers. He said, “This isn’t enough?”

Yugi shrugged. “There are one or two additional areas of interest. Let’s sit here next to this pool.” He chose an area where a little fountain pooled and cascaded before flowing down to the Nile. Large, smooth stones had been cleverly fashioned into a natural-looking bench. “Tell me, what have you learned?”

“It has been very difficult for me to determine what Bakura is after. He tells me that I know what he wants, but he won’t ask me directly. If I’m correct, he created this world, and yet he tore apart my room as though he believes I hid something in it. This makes no sense if he created everything I have.”

“He searched your room?” Yugi looked at him with concern. “What you say is true if this is Bakura’s creation. However, if what you recall as your real life is, in fact, an illusion, perhaps this makes more sense.”

“Perhaps …” Seto said doubtfully.

“What did you discover during your studies?” Yugi prompted.

“Little enough. The only profitable area of study was magic.”

“Unsurprising.”

Seto hesitated. He wanted to make some comment about how stupid it was to try to deal with dark forces like that, but—as ridiculous as it was to play along with this game—it wasn’t his place to speak up. Finally he said, “There was one common thread I noticed. One essential ingredient …”

“The true name!” Their eyes met for a moment before Seto tore his away to look into the pool.

“I was thinking about this in your library today and I realized that, in all the time since I lost my memory, no one has mentioned your name. I don’t remember it.” He looked up again, his intense gaze back to full strength. “Your name wouldn’t be … Yugi … would it?”

“No …” Seto’s companion stared at him, his eyes widening in shock. “No. But … something’s wrong. The fact is, I don’t know what my name _is_.”

“So you’re telling me that I don’t remember anything, and you remember everything except your own name?”

“That’s pretty much it.”

Seto sat, his fingers steepled. “Your name. … The item most used in ritual …”

“And you. You don’t remember anything, yet Bakura claims you remember _everything_. You are the center of this puzzle … his target.”

“Am I the puzzle? Or, do I just hold …”

His mind flashed to the puzzle he solved long ago with Mokuba …

“The key …” Yugi was saying. “Or else …”

That piece, the flash of gold …

“… the missing piece.” Seto sighed. “I’ve known that from the beginning, though. He thinks I have some information that he needs. He’s said as much.”

“But now we have an idea that this piece of information is my name.”

“But why the fuck would he need that?!” spat Seto, annoyed. “And how am _I_ supposed to know it? I need to—”

_get back to Mokuba!_

“What? Is this—?” Yugi examined Seto’s face carefully. “You’re talking about that ‘other world’ … the world you remember.”

“Hn.”

“I think it’s time you told me about that. I need to know. You asked me if my name was …” he frowned, “was …”

“Yugi.”

“Yugi,” he repeated. “Yes. Tell me more. It might help us understand what this is and how it fits. How this enchantment works and why he’s targeting you.”

“He’s targeting me because he thinks he can extract your name from me. I guess. But why he thinks I know that and what he wants to use it for—”

“Does not matter for the current discussion. I want to illuminate the problem. This should be some thing familiar to you.”

Yet Seto hesitated. He was reluctant to mix these worlds for some reason. It was as though discussing one within the bounds of the other produced some alchemy that broke down the barriers between the two, and there was some indefinable reason that he felt that must never happen. “My Prince …”

“Please. You want this resolved, don’t you? You want to defeat Bakura?”

“That is my primary aim. I believe that is my way—”

“To return.”

Seto looked into Yugi’s luminous, carmine eyes, a little surprised. There was understanding in them, but also more than a little sadness. He was smiling ruefully. “Of course,” he said. “You’re wealthy. An important person.”

“It’s not—” Seto forced his anger down. “My brother.”

“He doesn’t exist here?”

“And you—you have friends in that world that have no counterparts here … If our situations were reversed, you would be demanding to know how to get back to them …”

Their eyes locked for a few moments as the prince absorbed the import of what Seto was saying.

“I … you do understand …” Seto began.

“I wish I did not. Please. This has waited too long.”

Seto nodded. “I don’t know how I can explain the world I remember. It will make no sense to you.”

“Try me,” Yugi said, throwing Seto a challenging grin. It was so like the start of a duel that Seto felt a shiver run down his spine.

“It’s …” he sighed. “It’s the distant future. Three thousand years hence—”

“Three _thousand—!_ ” The prince’s eyes grew wide at this and Seto waited for him to adjust. “Even if this is just a spell-induced vision … Go on.”

“As I told you, there are strange commonalities between our worlds. People … and things. You, for instance. Only you are a simple citizen, although a great duelist.”

“And you?”

Seto colored. The prince would think this a presumption. “I … I’m wealthy—fabulously wealthy, yet I’m still an orphan. —B-but I have a brother. There’s dueling, only the monsters are merely paintings … on papyrus squares. They’re not dangerous—real, they’re … projected representations.”

“Representations? You mean visions?”

“Yes, I … I created them using machines.”

“ _You_ created them?”

The slight blush returned to Seto’s cheeks. “Yes, but …” he frowned slightly. “It was after you—no, Yugi—showed me … he called it a shadow game. The penalty game was …”

“I inflicted a penalty game? On _you?_ ”

“Yes, the Experience of Death. That was the first one.”

“I did this more than once? This is me you’re talking about? Someone _like_ me?”

“You must understand, I … I was …” Seto found himself blushing more than ever, hating himself for being unable to control it. “I wasn’t the same as—”

“Say no more. Go on.”

“The people. Yes. Mana … and Mahad. They’re two of the … painted papyrus figures. And Shimon is like … Yugi’s grandfather in that world.”

“And Akhenaden? You seemed to recognize him.”

“That’s different. I don’t. Only I have a very strong feeling about him.”

“Negative.”

“Yes. And he reminds me of someone … quite different … but there’s something …” He wanted to say “a darkness.” He shook his head. That was so stupid.

But Yugi was nodding as though he understood.

“Bakura was there, only he’s weak. Like a kitten. Not like this one at all. … Except. Right before he pushed me into this. He was exactly the same.”

“Possession?”

Seto scowled. He didn’t like this at all, then insisted to himself this was VR and uttered, “Hn.”

Yugi paused thoughtfully, then said, “What else?”

“There … the _sennen_ puzzle that your father holds.”

“Yes?”

“In my world, it belongs to you—Yugi, and—”

“The others?”

“That’s just it. I’ve definitely seen the tauk … it was worn by a woman who looked exactly like Isis and had the same name. The ring—I think I saw it for an instant—around Bakura’s neck, but … the others …” he sighed. “The others seem … oddly familiar, but I’ve only seen them depicted on a stone tablet,” he said, realizing where he’d seen them. “But the _sennen_ rod …”

“What about it?”

“It seems more … familiar somehow.”

“Perhaps I should have you handle it.”

“ _No!_ ”

Yugi looked at him curiously.

“Why are you so against it?”

“It …” Seto paused, trying to understand. There was a definite sensation, an unwillingness, but he didn’t understand it at all. “It’s an aversion.” He sighed. It did no good to deny it. “It makes no sense.”

“Perhaps we should listen to your instinct until we understand it better,” Yugi said, frowning. When dealing with magic, sometimes instinct is all we have at first.” He paused and then muttered, “Mahad should be here.”

But, as stupidly logical as the suggestion seemed under the circumstances of this game, Seto didn’t feel comfortable with including Mahad. He frowned at himself trying to figure out why. “Mahad …?” he said, uncertainly.

“I think we should consult with him, but for the most part, especially considering Bakura’s … personal attacks, I think we’ll keep this mostly between us.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Now, as to the nature of your experience, I see three possibilities. One, both of these worlds are real and you actually do come from the future. Two, you are seeing some sort of projection of the past, created manipulated by Bakura—all this, including myself, are simply shadows. Three, your future self is some sort of illusion created by Bakura to confuse and manipulate you.”

“In which case, Bakura has caused you to forget your own name.”

“Yes, that is a troublesome aspect of that possibility, which casts doubt upon its validity, given the fact that my name is Bakura’s likely objective.”

“I also discount it because I’m disinclined to believe that this is all the result of magic—”

“All of these entail magic.”

Seto wanted to say “or technology,” but couldn’t find the word in the language he was speaking, so he merely said, “Hn.”

Yugi paused. “We also must take into account Bakura’s actions.”

“His actions?”

“Yes. His attack on you was not just for fun, although I’m positive that he enjoyed tormenting you. That was to put pressure on you, or to …” Yugi hesitated.

“What?”

Yugi colored again. “He couldn’t know … could he?” he muttered.

“What are you talking about? Know? What?”

“I … Feelings … feelings I’ve been having … for you.” Yugi’s eyes flickered down for a moment before regaining their usual strength.

“You—you’re not referring to those rumors, are you? That’s—” Seto reached out to grab Yugi’s wrist, then realized he was about to seize a royal personage and snatched his hand back. “My—”

“I the world you remember …” Yugi said, “I’m … just an ordinary boy? You said …”

Seto sighed. “In station. There could never be anything ordinary about you.”

“And we are closer … in age, you said?”

“Yes, but—” _what does that have to do with anything?_ he was going to ask, but Yugi was approaching him now.

“Are you so diffident in your world? So reserved?”

“Diffident? I—” Seto began, offended. “I always act decisively,” he insisted. “If I want something, I take steps to achieve it.”

“And if you wanted some _one_?”

“I—” Seto stopped. He had never considered that possibility. All his life he had worked toward freeing himself from any reliance on others. Depending on others only created the risk of abandonment. He’d never tied himself to others save to support Mokuba. “I … don’t …”

“What is the other Yugi like?” Yugi pressed, taking another step forward.

“He’s like you … sometimes … when he duels. Other times, he’s timid, bashful. It’s—”

“Do you like one better?”

“I … what do you mean?” The consistent advance that the prince was taking was starting to make Seto uncomfortable.

“I like you, Set. A great deal.”

Seto took an involuntary step backward and found that his heel came in contact with a shrub. He slipped around it as a mild sense of déjà vu hit him—but Yugi was hardly Bakura. He wouldn’t try to use his position to—

Not Yugi.

But Seto’s recent experience caused an upwelling of unwanted emotion.

* * *

The prince looked probingly at Set. Was he being intentionally obtuse? Wasn’t it Set himself who had reported the palace rumors to him? Or was he simply that oblivious to the emotions of others? Or …

Was he simply determined to take nothing for granted in the realm of human emotion?

Whatever the case, Set was unique. He was more resolute than ever to get close to him.

“Set,” he said, “Tell me about the me—Yugi—you know.”

“Why …” Set began, but stopped, seeing the prince’s expression. He sighed. “He’s much like you … when he duels, and then, other times he’s timid, bashful. … He—his friends are important to him. Much more—much more important to him than I am.”

“I—” _I can’t believe that._ The prince frowned. “And you?”

“I’ve told you what my life is like.”

“That you’re wealthy and have a brother? That you build magical machines? I want to know what your life is like, Set. How do you _feel?_ Are you happy?”

“Happy?”

Set said it as though it were a foreign concept. Life wasn’t happy.

Ever.

Not for him, anyway.

“I’m happy that my brother is safe and has a good life. He won’t ever have to worry about anything as long as I’m around. That’s why I have to get back.”

The prince closed his eyes. Loyal Set. No matter where. Or when.

“Set …” he said, taking a step forward.

But Set seemed uncomfortable, involuntarily taking a step backward. When his back contacted a palm tree, something entered his eyes.

The prince hastened to calm him, reaching forward to stroke his cheek gently.

This was the wrong move.

Set’s eyes closed and he jerked sideways and downward, ducking away. In a flash Set was fully two cubits away, crouched and panting. Slowly, he gathered himself and stood. “I … I’m sorry, my Prince. I couldn’t …”

“It’s quite understandable. I only wish I could make you feel better about what happened.”

“I should be all right,” Set said, embarrassed. “I know you aren’t going to …”

“But …”

“I know better than to quail at shadows.”

“Set, please. If you let me, I can help.”

“I want to do this myself.” Set knelt on one knee. “Please.”

The prince sighed. “All right.”

He had to let Set try it his way.

But he’d so much rather go as slowly as necessary. It would be worth it, if only he could heal him with his kisses.

At this point, he didn’t care if it _was_ playing into Bakura’s hands.

**Author’s notes:**

One last once-over for the re-posting, and _still_ there were missing commas! So much work ironing out the POV detail; I hope the shift in point of view was easy enough to follow at the end of there (Seto to Atem).


	8. Epiphany

In Domino, the spirit of the nameless pharaoh alit from Mokuba’s limousine and was looking about the square, frowning, Mokuba and Anzu nearby. They’d barely learned anything more about his disappearance and what they had learned was anything but reassuring. There should be some way of knowing where Kaiba went from here …

The pharaoh was looking around when he sensed his _aibou_ stirring. _Remember when Jounouchi was lost and I wished on the puzzle to find him? You found him for me. Do-do you think you could do that? For Kaiba?_

_I could try. My guess … He’s probably caught in a shadow game._

_A shadow game?_

_Yes. Perhaps I can sense it. But it’s been going on for hours._

_I’m worried._

_I am as well. We’ll find him._

“Pharaoh?” Anzu asked.

“I’m all right,” he said. “Yugi asked me to try to sense where Kaiba might be.”

“Can you feel anything?”

“Not yet. I’m going to try to use the power of the _sennen_ puzzle. It should be attuned to the shadow game, wherever it is.” Taking the puzzle in both hands, the pharaoh closed his eyes. As he concentrated, a glowing wadjet eye appeared on his forehead. “This way,” he said, pointing.

“Do you know where he is now?” asked Mokuba hopefully.

“Not exactly, but I think I sense a shadow game taking place in this direction. I suspect that’s where we can find him.”

“If it’s a game, my brother will win,” Mokuba said confidently. “But what’s a shadow game?”

Ignoring the question, the spirit said, “We should get there.” He didn’t want to explain the danger to Mokuba or tell him that there was real chance that the shadow game had been structured in such a way that it was unwinnable. He didn’t know how, but he had a sense of this opponent, and he felt that he was not honorable.

Mokuba was fairly hopping up and down by his side with anxiety, but the spirit was surprised by his own level of concern. His history with the person he sought was so complex. He wasn’t certain how his interference would be received. Kaiba was, after all, such a proud man, so much older than his years, so much more responsible, and yet, at the same time, so fragile in some ways. He was so accustomed to prevailing, to winning …

And yet, wasn’t he, he asked himself, walking toward the shadowy unknown? What would he do if he was faced with a force that was unbeatable—or seemingly unbeatable?

What would he do?

Scowling, he stopped momentarily and stared at the puzzle.

“What’s wrong?” asked Mokuba, alarmed. “Did you lose the location?”

“No, it’s … it’s all right. Let’s go.” He started walking again in the direction of trouble, picking up his pace a little.

If Kaiba was in trouble, he should have friends with him whether he wanted them or not.

* * *

The next morning, Seto was walking with Shada and Karim when Akhenaden stopped them. “Set, I’d like to talk with you,” he said.

“I have a busy day, Master,” he said.

“You’re still required by the Prince for a special project?”

“Yes, and I haven’t been cleared for training by the physician. I am sorry, Master.”

“Still, I need you to spare a moment to speak with me.”

Seto sighed. “I won’t have you examining me with that … item.”

The man looked very reluctant, but after a moment he said, “I promise that I will not use it in any way.”

“All right. Go ahead, Shada, Karim.”

The two looked hesitant. “We’ll go a little way, but I want to wait for you,” said Karim. “We’ll be at the next turn.”

Akhenaden watched them walk away. “You have loyal companions, Set. You should be gratified. Not many people inspire that kind of allegiance.”

“The Prince asked them to stay with me, I believe.”

“I don’t think that’s it. I think that it’s that you’re a future Guardian, but more than that, you’re Set. They want to help you because they instinctively respect you.”

“Hn.”

Akhenaden led Seto into a small room off the main corridor. “What if I told you that this prince has cast a spell over everyone?”

“And what would be the purpose of that?”

“To bind the power of that visitor, Bakura.”

“Did he tell you this?”

Akhenaden said nothing.

Seto’s brown furrowed ever so slightly. “Did it occur to you that perhaps his power needs to be checked?”

But Akhenaden was walking around Seto now, examining him carefully. Did Akhenaden think that he had Yugi’s alternate name tattooed on his person somewhere? The old man straightened and said, “If the man puts his power to work to serve us, then does it matter?”

Seto was now scowling. “I know enough about that person to know that he has no plan to help me in any way. Master, it is our calling to serve the Pharaoh; to serve his family. Do not dishonor yourself.” He turned and left quickly, hoping he had enough appetite left for breakfast.

* * *

Seto stepped out of the small room, glad to be clear of Akhenaden. Unfortunately, he was not destined to reach his breakfast in peace because Bakura blocked his path.

Seto looked over his shoulder, but Shada and Karim were nowhere to be seen.

“If you’re looking for your companions, I’ve occupied them,” said Bakura pleasantly. “I’d really like to have a nice little conversation with you.”

“If you want a nice little conversation, why did you assault me the other night?”

“That’s one of the topics of discussion, Seto.”

“Don’t use my given name.”

“Say please.”

Seto stared at him silently.

“Priest, then.”

Seto grimaced but said nothing. He liked that better than hearing that personage call him _Seto_ , at least. He shrugged and returned to the little anteroom that he and Akhenaden had used. “What do you want?”

“Right to the point, as always. Did I mention that it’s one of the things I really like about you?”

“ _Get_ to the point, then.”

Bakura laughed. “All right. Are you ready to give me what I want?”

Seto gritted his teeth. “Who says I even know what you want?”

A smile spread over Bakura’s face. “You’ve stopped denying it outright. Ha. You must have figured it out. For a smart guy, it took you long enough. So why don’t you tell me what I want to know so we can all go home?”

“Because … I … don’t … _know_ … it!”

“Oh, please! Are you telling me, even now, nothing about this place seems even remotely familiar?”

“Famil—” Seto reached out and gripped a handful of the sash that the boy was wearing over his bare chest and yanked him forward. It wasn’t very effective, but he couldn’t very well seize him by his neck as he wanted to. “Look here, Bakura,” he said, “my patience is wearing thin. What did you mean to accomplish by attacking me?”

Bakura gently pried Seto’s fingers loose and stepped back. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, maintaining his friendly demeanor. “Didn’t you see the prince’s reaction? He’s ever-so-possessive about what’s his and he’s come to realize that he thinks of you as primary among his possessions … or, at least, let’s say, he wants you to be his possession. Can’t you see how badly? Hasn’t he made his move by now? If he hasn’t, I’m extremely disappointed … in the both of you.”

“ _You—!_ ” Seto lunged for him, but Bakura swiftly eluded his grasp, having expected it well in advance.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“But why the hell would—”

“Isn’t it obvious? The closer you two are, the more likely it is your memory will spark.”

“And you’re not worried—”

“That you’ll try to prevent it? You want to get out of here, don’t you? The moment you remember, I expect you to come running to me. Just tell me and I’ll let you get right back home to your beloved little brother and your comfortable little life.”

Seto scowled. This was all too convenient. This … _person_ …

Bakura sighed. “Why must you overthink everything, Priest? Just tell me what I need, and we both can be on our merry way.”

Seto watched Bakura smile, turn, and bounce out of the room. He stood for a moment, frowning. This didn’t seem right to him at all. He and Bakura could be on their way? What about Yugi? What about _this_ Yugi—the Prince … if the Prince were a real person at all …

And why was the Prince so … real … to him all of a sudden?

* * *

Seto had barely finished eating when he felt a strong presence in the room. Murmurs of “My Prince!” floated up around him as his fellow initiates rose to bow. He noticed that he still suppressed an urge to stand defiantly as he followed suit.

“I need to talk to you, Set,” he said, leading the way out of the dining hall. “We didn’t finish our conversation yesterday. That’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“I left.”

“But I changed the subject.” Yugi led the way into the royal wing and eventually out into his private garden again, where they sat on a low bench overlooking the Nile. “I’ve been thinking at length about what you told me—about the life you believe you lead … three thousand years from now.” Yugi looked troubled as he thought it over.

Seto frowned slightly. Why did Yugi’s expression bother him? Should he even care if Yugi was worried? If this was VR, it was totally meaningless … right?

He scowled. _This was all Bakura’s fault!_

“Are—are you all right?” Yugi asked.

Seto looked up to find the Yugi’s compassionate carmine eyes trained on his face. This was even worse. “I’m fine,” he said. “Please continue.”

“All right …” Yugi said, his eyes not leaving Seto’s. “Your descriptions were so vivid. There are so many similarities with our own lives that I can’t completely rule out the possibility that this is simply illusion, but there is the variation … your brother, the friends that you say I have, that sort of thing, that I can’t discount the possibility that it’s true. However, if this possibility is indeed true, it means that all this, myself included, are just … illusions.” He paused, a shadow passing over the brightness of his eyes.

“My Prince …”

Yugi waved him off. “Don’t concern yourself. Whatever the truth is, there is nothing to be done about it. The important aspect of this possibility is the import of it. What it would mean is that Bakura—something of him, anyway—has survived in conscious form and wants this piece of information to the extent that he’s willing to attempt to burrow all the way past your conscious mind to get it. He’s willing to dig into your very _soul_ , Set!”

“I don’t believe in souls.”

“You …” Yugi stared at him uncomprehendingly. “How can you say that? You’re a—”

“In this world I might be a priest, but in my world I’m a …” he struggled with the concept, “well, a sort of—”

“Magician?”

“Not really. More of an artist of a sort … and merchant.”

“But, Set, souls exist, whether you’re willing to acknowledge the fact or not. But, more to the point, if Bakura has created this world to pull the memory from your soul, he’s used your memories to create this world.”

“What good does that do him? I don’t remember what he wants to know.”

“Ah, Set, if this world is created partially out of your memories, those memories that are hidden to you are hidden within this world. That’s why he searched your room. There should be a physical manifestation of the hidden memory he’s after. It’s just hidden somewhere.”

“So you’re saying that whoever finds it first wins the game?”

“That’s one way of winning.” He frowned, thinking. “But he’s also trying to get you to give him the name. He’s forcing things. I think if you give him the name, or perhaps if one of you forces the other to speak it aloud, the other wins.”

“But he doesn’t even know it.”

“Who said the game was fair?”

“I’ve already checked my room, and so has Bakura. Any other suggestions?”

“I think that this entire situation has placed too great a stress on you. You can’t think as clearly as you usually would.”

Seto looked at Yugi piercingly. Something leading had entered the tone of his voice. What did he have planned? _Does he really want to help me or just take what he wants? Still …_

“Set, come with me.”

Without further discussion, Yugi led the way through his private garden to an area that Set had thought was palace walls. When they came up to them, however, it became apparent that it was, in fact, two walls with a narrow space in between. There was room enough to walk comfortably with benches and plantings of shade-loving plants to the sides, but not much more space than that. The walls were high and a mist of water drifted into the shade from above.

In comparison with the general climate, it was blessedly cool.

Seto stood, closing his eyes. “I wouldn’t have imagined such a place existed.”

“Only a few know about it.”

“Why …?” _Why bring me here?_

“Set, I’ve already told you how I feel and still you ask?” Yugi sighed. “Come.” He led Seto to the bench and made him sit. A stream of water poured over the top of the wall and down the side next to the bench in a small cataract. “Look there,” Yugi said, pointing. The sunlight scattered all around in a beautiful rainbow at the end of the wall. He then sat next to next to Seto—not too close—in silence, letting him enjoy the surroundings for a few minutes.

It was so nice that Seto almost stood up. Ever since he’d found himself in this world, his experience had ranged from uncomfortable to exquisitely painful. These surrounding tempted him to relax, and that sensation set off all manner of internal alarm bells. This whole thing, this experience, was all part of the stupid game that Bakura had set up, so his instinct was to keep his guard up.

As if noticing Seto’s efforts to remain alert, Yugi said, “Set, I … no matter how you feel, you need to become more at ease in my presence.”

“I … my—”

“Your Prince, your Prince! Go ahead! Call me by that other name! You want to! You know I hear it, that hint of disdain, of cynicism, whenever you use a term of respect in this palace! It’s insulting! It’s—”

“Yugi—” Seto began without thinking, then stopped, Yugi’s crimson gaze catching his like the blazing setting sun.

“Be honest or say nothing.”

“Yugi, I confess, this change in our relative station has taken me by surprise, and … I don’t believe it. I don’t believe this world is real. The—”

“The similarities—”

“The similarities are just enough to make me believe that Bakura is a very clever manipulator. Although why he thinks I know this other name of yours …” Seto shrugged. “Perhaps it doesn’t exist. Perhaps he’s insane.”

“Perhaps all of this is real and buried so deeply inside of you that you can’t see it. Perhaps locking this secret inside yourself is what you intended all along, and I—I’m unintentionally fighting on Bakura’s side, helping him find this information in you. Maybe it’s meant to be hidden.”

“Even a fake you will make the right decision,” he said. “Bakura thinks he can force us to reveal information before we even know we have it. But we know what he wants. We’re forearmed.”

“Fake …” Yugi mused. “Set, what bothers me the most is the possibility that you’re right,” he said, closing his eyes. “That I’m not … real.”

“You …” Seto began, but Yugi was right, he thought this version, this Prince Yugi or whatever, was some sort of incredibly realistic simulation. “I don’t respect you so little that I will lie, but the fact is that you’ve made this world seem so real that it—” he couldn’t say “scares,” but it disturbed him on some level, so he finished, “—bothers me.”

Yugi’s head snapped up, his luminous crimson eyes once more staring into his.

“This …” Seto grabbed Yugi’s hand, holding it between them so that Yugi could see it, “It feels as real as my brother’s hand—as the other Yugi. I have a … machine that can create visions like this, but they aren’t even close.”

Seto made to drop Yugi’s hand, but Yugi held on, pulling Seto’s hand in to rest on his chest over his heart. Seto could feel its throbbing. _Even that …_

The way Yugi was staring into his eyes was compelling. There was something different about his expression; Seto was used to seeing challenge there, and it was still there, but was there now also a request?

“Set, what bothers me the most is the possibility that you’re right. That I’m not … real,” Yugi said, adding another hand to the one on Set’s. “I don’t want to disappear.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Seto said. “All I can think is that no matter what, there is still a you.”

He smiled ruefully. “Somehow it doesn’t feel that way.” One of his hands began moving slowly up Seto’s arm.

“And being close to me will make you feel more real?” The hand stopped, resting on Seto’s forearm. “You might as well go to Bakura, if that’s your aim.”

Yugi sighed, annoyed. “You already know that’s not all it is. You already know that there are others I could turn to. You already know that I’ve become infatuated with you. Are you trying to force me to tell you that I’m falling in love with you? Because—”

“That’s not …” Seto recklessly interrupted, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He thought about the other Yugi. This one was so different—and yet, so completely the same. How would he feel if that other approached him in the same way, told him of an attraction, infatuation? No doubt he would be inclined to distrust, wondering if there weren’t some ulterior motive. Still, he knew he would be tempted. Sorely tempted. When he dueled Yugi, he never felt so alive, so there in the moment. The desire to conquer him was …

_Dammit_ , he thought, _have I always been …?_

Yugi must have caught something in his expression because he said, “Please don’t run away again. I promise I won’t force things.” Now Yugi was leaning in more closely, the lids of his eyes slipping down slowly over luminous crimson.

Here in the cool shade, Yugi’s closeness, which would ordinarily would have been uncomfortable in the hot climate, was pleasant. The constant sound of the water flowing nearby was soothing, almost hypnotic.

Seto felt himself begin to relax toward Yugi, but as he did, he felt himself struggle with the urge to fight it and leave. His anxiety from Bakura’s attack had largely dissipated, but he still felt watched. Any way he looked at it, this Yugi was some sort of simulacrum—moreover, a simulacrum designed to work as a pawn to extract information from him. Could he really allow this to progress in the direction that it appeared to be going?

“Set,” Yugi breathed, “let’s just forget everything for now.”

Yugi’s hand had now moved all the way up Seto’s arm and around his shoulders, the other hand joining it in an embrace, their chests pressed together. Seto couldn’t help but reciprocate, running his hands over the bare skin of Yugi’s back. His skin was soft. Seto took a breath and closed his eyes, allowing Yugi to take a little of his weight. He was so tired, he wanted to ease off a little.

Encouraged by Seto’s response, Yugi stroked and grabbed at Seto’s hair, meshing their lips together in a kiss.

A shiver ran through Seto’s body and he felt it move, almost of its own accord, his fingers caressing the smooth bronze skin of his cheek and down along the jawline, the long neck.

Had he always wanted … this?

Yugi became more enthusiastic, pressing uncomfortably on bruised skin and causing Seto to gasp slightly, parting his lips. Yugi took this as an invitation to kiss him more deeply. The kiss was somewhat painful, but the pleasure of it unbearable. Seto found himself losing control of his actions, his hands running down Yugi’s back.

Yugi released Seto’s lips and moved down to his neck, gently kissing the barely-fading bruises there as though to heal them, his hands running over his lean torso and pressing it gently, urging Seto into a prone position. Seto buried his face in the hair, his body filling with sensation. Did he really want to let …

Yugi seemed to notice the change in tension and pulled his head back to look at Seto, his eyes ablaze. “We’re in my private garden,” he said hoarsely. “No one is to disturb us until at least dinner.”

“This … this is what he wants …” Seto murmured.

“Don’t mention him. I don’t care if he’s monitoring us somehow. Let him see that we’re not afraid. Let him see that he can’t take you from me.”

For a moment they stared at each other, frozen. “Please,” Yugi breathed, and Seto relented, allowing himself to be pushed back, but his mind continued to work. They kissed, Yugi willing him to relax.

The bench was surprisingly comfortable, and Seto yearned for a break, but he couldn’t quite let go. After all, it was still game on. Seto’s concern was that Bakura wanted the two of them together. He had engineered this situation, and here they were. All the anxiety, pain, relentless thought toward escape had made it impossible to relax completely, and now, in this peaceful setting, Seto was feeling an unmistakeable urge to release that tension. And Yugi …

He was running his fingers through his hair as they kissed, and the tension in his head wanted to run out with them.

But Bakura believed that he could simply push Yugi at him like this. The idea that Bakura wanted him to succumb felt like a challenge—and not a flattering one. No matter what Yugi said, he couldn’t help coming back to it. Bakura believed that Seto would either run away or give in and lose somehow. It was annoying. The remaining possibility hadn’t even crossed his mind. Bakura couldn’t believe that he’d actually step up and win, did he? He thought that Seto would actually lose his head over something like this? That was insulting and, frankly, laughable.

Yugi was moving down to Seto’s neck and shoulders now, easing the tension there. He could feel the mist drifting down onto him from above and gathering into droplets, a sweet dew for Yugi to drink. It was becoming more and more difficult for Seto to think because of the flood of sensation pouring through every nerve in his body.

Nevertheless, the strong possibility that they were under some sort of observation lingered like a dark cloud in the back of Seto’s mind.

The the more Seto hesitated, the more Yugi’s kisses made him relax. When Yugi began kissing the sensitive skin of Seto’s stomach, pulling waistband of the odd kilt down out of his way, the complex tangle of thoughts was lost in a rush of shivery sensation. And then Yugi pressed his tongue into Seto’s navel.

Seto heard a sudden inhalation, and realized that Yugi’s efforts to relax him had engendered an entirely new tension; he could no longer breathe evenly. He tangled his fingers in Yugi’s hair, inspiring a low, appreciative hum.

It no longer mattered to Seto whether he was under observation, because something had to be done about his current condition one way or the other, and running away would be far more humiliating. Besides, here, in this beautiful secluded garden, it was easy to forget that someone could be watching. Domino seemed distant and indistinct, more than a world away. As much as his mind had been bent on reuniting with Mokuba, that goal seemed a far off destination. All he could hear was the flowing water and the uneven hitching of his own breath.

And now, Yugi—this Yugi—seemed almost painfully real.

Yugi’s hands had moved to Seto’s thighs, now, caressing them. He seemed to be taking care not to trigger a repeat of their previous encounter. He gently ran his hands over Seto’s skin, which relaxed him but at the same time increased that new tension so that his entire body tingled with it.

A voice in the back of Seto’s mind warned him that he should stop Yugi while he could, but for perhaps the first time since this nightmare began, he was feeling almost … good.

No … he was definitely feeling good.

And, besides, hadn’t he already made his decision?

He leaned back into the stone bench, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of those hands—a-and lips?—running over his skin. It seemed like the first time in a long time that he had just let himself experience something.

And whatever Yugi was doing was becoming more and more intense. Seto knew exactly where this was going and now he couldn’t make himself stop Yugi even if he wanted to. He did his best to stop thinking altogether and let the sensation flow through him. He didn’t want to stop it.

But as he reached the brink, he realized that more was coming out of him than either of them anticipated, and there was no stopping it. In the bare instant of inevitability, he knew it with absolute certainty.

He was going to call out a name.

A name he didn’t recognize, but one he knew very well.

He had to stop it … he couldn’t stop it …

Pleasure flooding his body, he violently threw his head back as hard as he could—

“ _Ah—!_ ”

All was blackness.

**Author’s notes:**

[Original notes:] Yeah, well ... I feel like I owe my character an apology after this, but I felt he needed some sort of push to get him to remember and he couldn’t let himself blurt it out, so ... Poor Seto. He’s just getting beat up left and right. I hope that I described it all right ... it was difficult to write & put into a form that I was at all satisfied with.

[New notes:] This particular chapter was heavily rewritten for this re-posting because I was not satisfied with it. I have not yet changed the original, however. I’m deciding how lazy I am. ;) I think this is an improvement. It did, however, take a chunk of time that I could have used to work on other stories.

Looking over the notes, I see this chapter was done about the time that my laptop died. An irritating time! But at least the loss was minimal.

[carried over response:] Seto and undressing: I hoped that would be humorous since he’s normally covered from neck to toe/wrist. From what little I understand about ancient Egyptian culture, they were much more casual about exposing the body and I pictured Seto as being uncomfortable with that. I hope you don’t mind that I had things progress so fast, but this is going to be a shorter story (than _Pride_ ) and will be wrapping up in the next few chapters.

_Jounouchi was lost and I wished on the puzzle to find him_ : This occurred in the manga (a darn good story, BTW).

Atem’s garden space: I believe I heard of a place in the Sahara where ancient people lived underground with water cascading down in a sort of ancient swamp cooling system. This idea is based on that.

Lastly, if you’re looking for lyrically graphic content, I’m not sure I’m ready for that.


	9. The Pawn Makes His Move

Seto violently threw his head back as hard as he could—

“ _Ah—!_ ”

All was blackness.

What followed was pure chaos.

If what Seto had experienced up until the moment of recognition was bliss, what followed was surely its antithesis.

His body was wracked by one tsunami after another, as though it were an ocean torn by uncontrollable tremors, tremors that stemmed from an influx of a flood of memory …

… but …

… none of them had any connection to the life he’d known.

_Duty … Guardians … Yugi—no, Atem … Pharaoh … my Pharaoh. My king. The man … the old man … Father? Golden items … a looming darkness … monster …_

_Zorc!_

_Loss … inconsolable … A woman—dragon—no, woman … a blinding light … outside … inside … help me …_

_Kisara …_

Dimly, Seto began to become aware of his surroundings as he struggled with his consciousness.

“He’s convulsing. Isn’t there something you can do, Mahad?”

“I’m not sure what I can do, my Prince, I’m afraid that anything I might try will only do him more damage at this point.”

“Mahad—” Seto had never heard such distress in Yugi’s—no, Atem’s—voice before. He wasn’t used to being so out of control.

Heh, he had to regain consciousness if only to tease him over this.

But there were the other things.

Zorc.

Things had finally come together and—

Whatever else had happened, however Atem felt about him in his world 3000 years hence, whatever became of KaibaCorp—even that—

_Zorc must not win._

The Pharaoh must be freed.

Even though …

Even though …

Even though that meant losing someone he cherished in yet another lifetime.

He forced his eyes open.

_Love is cruel._

* * *

“Set—Set—Are you—You’re not well.”

Seto sat up.

His hands immediately went to his head. It was splitting.

Again.

“Why—why did you _do_ that?”

“Trip over the chaise? I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” said Mahad.

Seto almost laughed. So that’s what Atem said had happened.

“I need to talk to you,” said Atem.

“He needs to rest—and medical attention” said Mahad. “I don’t see—”

“I need to talk to him. _Now_.”

“Very well,” Mahad said. “But allow Set to lie back. We’ll leave the room until you call us. Please don’t be long though … for his health’s sake.”

Atem nodded solemnly and watched the initiates leave. Then he turned to Seto and said urgently, “You did that on purpose.”

Seto looked back directly into his crimson eyes and said evenly, “I don’t know what you mean,” willing him to understand. He couldn’t tell him outright that he remembered everything.

He only wished that he didn’t.

“Set—” Atem said, reaching out and grabbing his upper arm tightly.

Atem stared at him very hard, caressing his cheek and jaw while examining every millimeter of his face as though he meant to consume it with his eyes.

Seto was sure that he understood—something.

“Set, how are we going to get you out of this?”

“I … I think that the only way to end this … this game … is to win, and the only way to win is to get the item that the game-master wants.”

“And that is … ?”

“The key.”

“He says you have it already.”

“But even if I knew what it was, to use it would be to give it up. To win a battle to lose the war? Or to lose both, perhaps. I don’t even know how this game works, other than by its creator’s whim.”

“Set …”

“I can only hope that this trap can be broken from the outside—by—I hate to say this—by you, by my friends.”

“By me? But I’m here, caught with you.”

Seto smiled ruefully. “You are in my world. This is … you, here … you’re … I only wish … Forget it.”

“Set—”

Atem was too close. And, although Seto could tell himself that he was a shadow, a falsehood created by Bakura to trick him, he was all too real, too like the one he’d known so long ago … in another life.

Impulsively, before he could stop himself, he reached forward and pulled the boy towards him and claimed his lips in a hot, consuming kiss.

“Believe in yourself,” he breathed. “You will save us.”

* * *

He was crying now, but who would see it? No one but Set.

And who was he to be embarrassed?

No one.

Apparently.

“Set, we need to find a way … Until your friends arrive, there must be a way—” He stopped. Set shouldn’t have to stall. If everything, everyone, was fabricated, constructed from distant history, mere memories, then it shouldn’t be Set’s job to stall, it should be all of theirs, to keep Bakura away from Set.

Away from his goal.

That would give Set’s friends time to find him.

The heinous pain of it was …

He felt real. Never more so …

“Set …” he said, “I feel real. I feel …” He closed his eyes. He did feel real. When he looked at Set he felt even more real. The way that intense blue bore into him— “Set, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just a shadow of the past. But if that’s all that I am … then it’s you—you’ve made me real, Set. The breath I feel, the desperation to live, to have a future. The hope for—” He grabbed Set’s hands, and placing them on his own face, said, “I want … too much. More than …”

He turned away, sliding away from Set’s touch.

_More than to say goodbye._

So he wouldn’t say it. He strode from the room without looking back, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks.

“Mahad, Karim, ensure that Set doesn’t leave this place. You said it yourself. He needs rest right now so that he can recover. He’s been injured too frequently and … severely recently and I fear for his … health.”

“Yes, my Prince.”

“All of you, please forgo your training and assist today.”

There was a general murmur of assent as the prince made his way down the hallway.

He heard some sort of to-do behind him, which he assumed was Set’s disagreement with his decision. However, the prince was certain that the initiates, together, were up to the task.

Now, was he up to dealing with Bakura? And just what kind of magician was he? The prince was certain that there was more to him than he’d at first imagined.

However powerful he was, though, it didn’t matter. He’d just have to hold him off as long as he could by whatever means he had to. Bakura was … evil.

He had to keep him away from Set.

But he hadn’t realized that simply finding him would be such a chore. He located the ambassador easily enough. He was engaged in trade negotiations with Shimon, with several scribes and officials about. The prince then looked through the gardens by the river, then gathered a few guards and checked the marketplace. Finally, when he was about to call for a complete room-by-room sweep of the palace by his guards, he walked into the main hall and found the boy draped over the throne.

“Shall I call the guards and have you forcibly removed from there?” he asked, incensed.

“Spoilsport. It’s only a chair.” Bakura got up with a sarcastic flair. “A chair with delusions of grandeur.” He arose with exaggerated grace. “What’s so important, my Prince? I was planning on seeing that luscious initiate again today. I asked him a question and I want to see if he remembers the answer today.”

“He’s got a good memory. Chances are, if he didn’t remember then, he doesn’t know the answer at all.”

“Ah … you plant a seed, you have to wait at least a day or two for it to sprout.”

“Memories aren’t seeds.”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes you have to shake a tree to get the fruit to fall. I was thinking of giving my tree another little shake. Nevertheless.” Bakura stood.

“I think you’re mixing your metaphors.”

Bakura brightened. “Pump him for information then? I can think of many metaphors.”

The prince grimaced. “I get your meaning. Before you go, I want to discuss who you really are and why you’re really here.”

“Why, my Prince, I’m here with my father. He drags me along so I’ll be fit to be an emissary just like him one day.”

“Hardly. If that’s true, why aren’t you at the trade negotiations?”

“Boring. My father cut me loose so that I wouldn’t disrupt them.”

“I have no doubt of that. Who are you, really?”

Bakura smiled. “I’m tired of this conversation. I have a priest to settle with.”

“He’s nobody.”

“Not to you, he’s not.” Bakura began advancing on the prince, leaning over him. “The way you looked at me when you found me with him!” He began laughing. “If you could have killed with your eyes!”

“It would have saved me a lot of trouble. Would you like to stop where you are, or would you like me to call the guards?”

“We both know that they’re powerless against me.”

“But you don’t want to reveal yourself.”

“Not in this game. This isn’t a game of battle and attrition. Both you and your priest have figured at least that much out, haven’t you?”

“Yes. It’s a game about finding something. A key. Only the key can end the game.”

“And Set has the key.”

Bakura smiled. “Set _is_ key. But you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you?”

“Thank you. I think. But this game … there’s no winning it.”

“Only if your aim is to hide the key from the dungeonmaster.” Bakura shrugged. “I didn’t make that a goal of the game. Set did. He can end this any time.” Bakura narrowed his eyes. “You know, you could help him.”

The prince’s eyes narrowed.

“You could get him to tell you. Then you could end it _for_ him. You could give me the key. You could be together.”

That was the most dangerous thing the man had suggested yet. If the prince were real, it might be tempting. But if he were real, he’d know his name and everything else would be academic. None of this would be happening. _How dare he!_

Before the prince could spit out a retort, Bakura growled, “You’re wasting my time. I’m done with this! I’ll pull the answer out of that priest if I have to tear his soul apart to do it!”

The prince made to put himself in front of Bakura, but found himself roughly shoved aside.

He started running after Bakura. If he gave Bakura the name—even if he _could_ give him his name—and the game ended, their world would end. Set and he could never be together. Not in this life—this life was a sham, a pretense. Just as he was a mere shadow, created out of memory.

_Please, Great Ra, let me become part of my real self if we survive! Somehow!_

**Author’s notes:**

_Love is cruel_ : If you recall, Zorc’s actual commentary on the outcome of Set/Kisara. Of course, he seemed much more pleased about it.

_Pump him for information_ : Probably a bit of an anachronism, but I couldn’t resist ...


	10. Back to the Future

When Atem left, Seto immediately rose to follow … only … nausea and vertigo returned with a vengeance. He sat, praying that these effects were entirely extremely realistic virtual reality and nothing more permanent.

He waited scant moments for the worst of the symptoms to pass before struggling to his feet again. He had to follow. He didn’t consider the fact that this Atem was virtual and therefore didn’t matter. He had to get to him; he couldn’t allow him to face Bakura alone. Atem didn’t realize what that … _thing_ … was. Still, he could barely move properly, and stumbled on his way to the door, catching himself on the jamb.

Mahad appeared by his side, grasping his bicep firmly. “You must get your rest,” he insisted. “Your Prince commands it.”

“Ordinarily I’d obey, but the Prince is in danger,” he said. “We must assist him.”

“I’ll see to it, but you can’t help him. Not in your condition.”

Seto smiled thinly. “And how are you going to stop me?” He yanked his arm away from Mahad easily only to find that Karim had materialized in the room.

“Set, please. Don’t make this difficult for us.” Karim moved around behind Seto and grasped his other arm. He began to drag Seto back toward the couch.

Seto leaned forward, resisting. As powerful as Karim was, he wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

“If you resist, we can’t help the Prince as quickly,” reasoned Mahad. “If you sit down and allow Karim to watch you, I’ll go immediately and call in the Guardians. Just tell me what needs to be done.”

Seto didn’t like this. Take himself completely out of the action and allow others to do all the work?

But this was Atem’s plan … even if it wasn’t the genuine Atem, it was a reasonable facsimile, drawn upon his memories of him …

… Drawn upon _his_ memories … The whole world. Just as Atem had said.

Of course.

There was one more possibility. The possibility that Atem had described.

He had to gamble on it.

He sat down, scowling. He hated doing things Atem’s way.

But …

He wanted to win.

He _needed_ to win.

“I need you to get the Guardians and go … toward the throne room. The Prince and Bakura will be somewhere between the throne room and this room,” he said quickly. “You must meet them and help the Prince. Do exactly as he says.”

“All right,” said Mahad, taking off at a run. He was probably happier helping Atem directly anyway, Seto thought.

“Let’s go, Karim,” he said.

“But Set, the Prince said—”

“He wanted to keep me from following him, am I correct?”

“I believe that was the intent.”

“We’re not going there.” Seto paused. “In fact, we should start with my room.”

“Your room?”

“Yes. I’m going to look at everything. All you have to do is stand by.”

“Stand by? Aren’t you going to tell me what you’re doing?”

Seto smiled grimly. “I’m looking for something, but I can’t tell you what I’m looking for.”

“All right,” Karim said, but he looked at Seto as though he was convinced that he’d lost his mind.

No matter. As quickly as they could manage it, they went to Seto’s room, Karim apparently having decided that humoring Seto in this was a fairly benign alternative. Seto began examining each object in the room in minute detail. It wasn’t as though he already gone through it, and Bakura hadn’t intruded to do the same thing, but nevertheless. It was worth being thorough. This was the most likely place.

Next he went to the training room to pick up his sword, just in case they met opposition.

“Do you really think there’s extreme danger?” Karim asked.

“I’m not certain, but if we run into forces opposing the Prince, I want to be prepared.”

Karim looked alarmed. “You really think he might be in physical danger?”

“It’s possible. Be prepared for anything.”

They stepped out into the wide hallway.

“When I saw that your quarters were empty, I knew that you’d go here first.”

* * *

“When I saw that your quarters were empty, I knew that you’d go here first,” said Akhenaden.

“Master, I don’t have time to talk right now. I’m sure you understand. The Prince has command—”

“The Prince? Why don’t you call him by his name, Set?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“His name. Prince … who? Surely you haven’t forgotten his name.”

“No. Have you? Why don’t you remind me?” Seto’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

“Set? What’s going on?” asked Karim.

“You—You’ve already made a deal with him, haven’t you?” accused Seto, ignoring Karim.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“High Priest Akhenaden?” asked Karim, nervously.

“You’re in our way. This is a private conversation,” said Akhenaden. He activated his _sennen_ eye and somehow pinned Karim to the wall.

“You know what Bakura is,” said Seto. “Did you take a look inside him with that eye of yours?”

“I … That’s not the point.” Akhenaden took a step closer. “Set, I’m your master and teacher. You’re going to listen to me.”

“No, I’m going to obey the Prince.”

“I’m your _father_ , Set. I love you. Come here.”

“Too late to shock me with that. I know what you are, and you’re no father of mine. I know what you did—will do. Whatever. I know what you’re capable of, and it’s not love.” He took a step backward. “If you don’t want me to run you through, keep your distance.”

“Set, I do love you, and you’re not yet capable of facing me, believe me.” He picked up a sword. “I don’t want to use magic against you.”

The corner of Seto’s mouth curled grimly. “Then prepare to lose.”

Akhenaden came close, their swords clashing. “I don’t want to fight you. I’m just going to extract the information I want!”

As their battle began, Seto was dimly aware of a commotion at the far end of the hall. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by it, but he had the impression of a large white snake-like monster and a spread of shining wings.

Even though the old man was reluctant to injure him severely, he was cagey and experienced, and Seto was severely hampered by his condition. Further, Seto found to his surprise that he was reluctant to fully commit to harming his master.

Then the fight took a turn as Seto caught a flash from that strange eye of Akhenaden’s. At that moment, Karim was released, dropping unceremoniously to the floor.

Seto stumbled backward. _The bastard is going to use that eye on me and read my mind!_ _It’s … I won’t be able to hide it!_

He could already feel it, the invasive mind entering his. At first his mind went entirely blank with shock.

Karim hurried to catch Seto, but he fell to the floor, the hilt of his sword smacking the stone soundly, its beautifully carved hilt cracking. Distracted, Seto looked down. A papyrus scrap had been stuffed into the hilt.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Look at me!” shouted Akhenaden.

But all of Seto’s attention had shifted to the papyrus. He unfolded it carefully. _Oh, yes._ Atem had given it to him the day they’d met. On it was written a good luck spell to protect the life of the sword’s bearer. It had been very important to Set, very secret, held close and sacred to him, that his prince cared about his safety in battle. And … it was sealed with the name of the spell’s caster.

_Atem_ …

* * *

Seto had been staring at a scrap of papyrus bearing the name of his future Pharaoh—Atem—and then …

He was sitting on that same uncomfortable concrete floor, his head splitting and spinning, a dark cloud gradually fading …

He took a moment to look down at himself. _My clothing …_ my _clothing!_ he thought with great relief.

_So that game_ was _possible to win …!_

_And … how …? Not VR?_ He sighed. He didn’t like the alternative.

Seto was happy to realize that his hands were free now. He was still wearing his Duel Disk, which accounted for some discomfort in his back, shoulders, and arms, but at least he didn’t have to search for it. Swiftly, he checked his deck, sighing with relief when he found that all of the irreplaceable cards were present. Replacing it in the card holder, he checked the mechanism. Not so good. The disk had been damaged and would have to be replaced.

Having accomplished these essential checks, Seto pressed his hands to his temples as everything began to gradually sink in: It was a game, but not VR. Everything he remembered told him that it was a shadow game. Magic _…_ a thought which made his head throb more, but there was no getting around it. He had remembered.

_He_ had remembered.

Why had he remembered all that? All this had been prepared for _…_

Voices in the distance brought his attention back to his surroundings, which included his opponent, who seemed to be unconscious.

He stood with a little difficulty. He was quite stiff. How long had he been there?

He cleared his throat, smoothed his clothing as well as he could, and composed his expression. He needed to secure that Bakura person, then find his security people—and Mokuba. For the first time, a small smile teased the corners of his lips.

A door burst open revealing Yugi—no, he realized, the spirit of Atem—wadjet eye glowing on his forehead, followed by Anzu and—Mokuba!

“Mokuba!” he called, his voice raspy. “I was just coming to look for you.”

Mokuba came running and threw himself at his brother, who, for once, knelt to catch him. Seto was embarrassed by the effusive joy that Mokuba was pouring out, but, well, he supposed he could tolerate it under the circumstances.

* * *

The spirit of the pharaoh watched the Kaiba brothers reunite with great relief. In fact, the surge of relief was such that he was a little surprised. Had he really been that worried? After all, he had great faith in Kaiba’s abilities …

Once Kaiba had extricated himself from Mokuba’s affectionate grasp, he moved to his opponent. Bakura still seemed unconscious. Seto knelt and pulled the _sennen_ ring from around his neck.

Kaiba held it gingerly, as though he could barely stand to touch it. “Yugi,” he said.

“Kaiba?”

“Take this thing. I believe it belongs—or should belong, anyway—to you. I do wish you’d take better care of these things.”

Yugi accepted the ring, feeling a strange electric thrill as it contacted his fingers, as though something passed from Kaiba through the medium of the ring to him. His eyes shifted to Kaiba’s blue ones involuntarily. _What was that?_ he wondered.

But Kaiba was looking back, apparently having sensed nothing. “Oh, Mokuba?”

“Nii-sama?”

“Call our security captain and have him take Bakura here into custody. I don’t want him interfering in our tournament any further. Yugi can deal with him as he likes when it’s over.”

“Yugi?” asked Mokuba.

“He’s Yugi’s friend.”

“Kaiba,” Yugi said firmly.

“Yugi?”

“That was a shadow game you were playing. Don’t tell me there wasn’t anything unusual about it from your perspective. What happened?”

Kaiba looked at him thoughtfully. Yugi could swear that the mind behind the intense gaze was calculating swiftly.

“Meh heh … Yugi, it’s a very long story. One I’m positive you’ll find fascinating. But I see no reason to just blurt it out like it’s nothing. It’s your fault that I had to go through all this, so it’s only fair that you have to earn the right to hear about what happened. So, Yugi, you can hear all about it when you win my tournament—that is, _if_ you win my tournament. And I promise you this, I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

With that, Kaiba leaned over and, before the spirit could react, grabbed him firmly by one shoulder, wrapped another hand around his cheek and kissed him full on the lips. The kiss wasn’t completely erotic, but it was personal and emphatic.

Yugi took a reeling step backward, shocked. Coming to himself, he demanded, “What was that for?!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ll consider telling you if you beat me.” He turned, his trench swirling behind him dramatically, then swept off, laughing, a wide-eyed Mokuba running to catch up with his lengthy stride.

Yugi stood staring after him in wonder, a hand rising to his tingling lips.

_What happened in that shadow game to change him like that?_

And just what, exactly _was_ this change?

He had to know.

“He … he _kissed_ you! Th-that _pervert!_ ” Yugi blinked, realizing that Anzu had appeared by his side. Apparently she had finally found her voice after Kaiba’s actions had left her speechless with outrage for a few moments. “Are you going to do something about this?”

“Oh, yes, Anzu,” he said quietly. “I’m going to win this tournament and demand an explanation.”

_~ Fin ~_

 

**Author’s notes:**

Well, I'd planned on finishing re-posting yesterday, but had to fix a technical issue instead. So it goes! I hope that the changes make for a smoother read and better characterization. No doubt most folks wouldn't even notice, since the main plot moved as before ... but, hey, I'm fussy. If you've read both and have something to say about it, feel free to comment away. ;) Comments (especially love) are appreciated.

[And now, an abridged version of the original notes & responses to review comments:] I’m thrilled that you like my titles because you wouldn’t believe the amount of thought that I put into them. Frankly, I’m not crazy about the title of this story [actually, it's since grown on me]. _Puzzle, Cipher, Key_ wasn’t the original title, but I liked the first one even less and I really never came up with one that I thought fit like a glove. When it comes to perfect titles, [_Satisfaction_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2286657)was the one that screamed out to me, _You must name me “Satisfaction”!_ Not only because Jack and Yusei were in Team Satisfaction, but because it turned out to be a theme and thread that ran through the whole story and culminated in the climax nicely. As for chapters: I leave them unnamed until they’re finished and I’m giving them their final reads and polishes before posting. Then I think about what the point, theme, or action of the chapter is and with luck think of something semi-clever to encapsulate as a title (I love it when I can use two meanings of a word or use word play). The recent story I did for 5D’s was fun because they were all baseball terms and phrases that I tried to mess with that way. Probably TMI, but anyway ...

And ... yeah. I really didn’t expect this story to be quite this short, but there you have it. Sometimes things don’t work out quite the way you expect them to. I hope that you enjoyed the ending, though. I’ve got to admit, I’m a little sad to end this one, but following this one beyond the shadow game just isn’t in the cards.

Moving on ...

_a spread of shining wings_ : Did you notice we never got to see what Atem’s ka was like (anime or manga)? Do you think it was a magician like Mahad’s/Mana’s? I kind of pictured it as one of the more impressive fairy-types (not the wimpy/fragile ones). Just a stab at what it might be like ...

_Meh heh_ : The laugh that they always give Kaiba in the manga.

A virtual cookie to anyone who gets that little business between Seto/Atem I put in towards the end.

I've cut the notes back quite a bit, but they still look verbose. Sigh.

Until next time, I leave my characters in your tender care.

DD

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Thanks ever so much for the kudos and any comments you might be moved to leave. :) You don't know how much I appreciate them. I hope you liked this and might try reading another of my stories.


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